


Red Dead Drabbles

by Caslock



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Blow Jobs, Canonical Character Death, Cunnilingus, Death, Drabble, F/M, Facials, Femdom, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-11 17:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 46
Words: 48,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17451314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caslock/pseuds/Caslock
Summary: Continuing a trend from my early Homestuck days, here is a collection of too-short stories that I wrote about the wonderful characters in Red Dead Redemption, usually fuckin'.Have a good day nowTumblr: arthurs-wife.tumblr.comKofi: ko-fi.com/tinkerpistolTwitter: I'm not entirely sure I know what that is





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Iluvmalecandclace said:  
> I don’t know if you would do this but today is my 21st birthday and I’m wondering if you could write a fluff/smut Arthur Morgan x me birthday story please.

It was nice having your own tent for once. Ever since you and Arthur had started up this… whatever the hell you were, Miss Grimshaw had /insisted/ you two get a tent of your own. It was killing you not knowing where you and Arthur stood, but damn if you were gonna complain watching a shirtless cowboy hop down off his horse and make a beeline for you after a long day of shenanigans. 

The morning of your 21st birthday was no exception to the “shirtless cowboy” rule and you found one right between your legs as you woke up. Bright blue eyes, muted in the darkness of the tent, shot up to meet yours.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he said to your thighs, placing tiny kisses all over them until he reached your hips, sliding his broad hands across them, “I can see you’re ready for me.” 

“I’m always ready for you, Arthur,” you moan, letting your fingers rake through his mop of a hairstyle. You’ve been meaning to cut it for him but lord it’s so nice to grab on to. 

He says nothing but flashes a mischievous smile at you, pulling your undergarments off and climbing gracefully up your body, as gracefully as a full grown cowboy can manage, anyway. He kisses up your chest, your neck, nibbles on your ear a bit, finally kisses you deeply. His usually rough hands turn gentle as they cup your jaw, tilting it back to taste you completely.

His member throbs against you and it still surprises you how large it actually is. You were skeptical about taking it all in when you and Arthur first got together, but Arthur said you’d take it like and champ and by fucking God you did. It’s only then do you realize-

“Arthur, when did you take your pants off?” 

“You need to pay more attention, sweetheart.” 

“Can you really blame me for dedicating more of my brain to-” you stop in your tracks and throw your head back, sucking air between your teeth as he enters you. “Oh my god, Arthur-” 

He hums at you, sliding in further and letting his head fall back, mouth slightly open and you just want to climb on top of him and devour that mouth, that stretched out neck muscles. But right now he was upright, one hand on your stomach and another by his side, the way he rode a horse, and that was just fine with you. 

His thrusts became deeper, more defined, his breathing more erratic. You tried so hard to just keep up with him but he reached down and rubbed your clit just the right way and you melted right there into the ground. Your orgasm hit you in waves, you could barely see his look of awe as you fell apart beneath him. 

When you could see straight again, you sat up and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. You’d show him how well you could ride a horse, damn it. You placed your hands on his shoulders and he grabbed your hips, beating you to the punch and thrusting up into you, hard. You could barely catch your breath as he pulled you down onto him wrapping his arms around you. 

You couldn’t care less if people heard but by now the entire town of Valentine was probably privy to your antics. He pulled you back just enough to kiss you again, barely able to concentrate on it before he pushed you off, coming all over his stomach in spasms. You both lay there for a moment, catching your breath until finally you roll off of him. 

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he said, grabbing the old linen sheet you pass him as you both clean up. 

“You’re too kind to me, Arthur,” you try to keep your voice down but it’s probably too late at this point. 

“I got you somethin’,” he blurted as if he just remembered, pulling a small, long box from his satchel. “Here, nowhere near as beautiful as you.” 

You open it and gasp, inside is a silver necklace with a bright sapphire sitting in an ornate, jewelled frame at its center. You look up at him. 

“You steal this?” 

“Now, I actually bought this,” he scorned, helping you put it on. 

“It’s breathtaking Arthur,” you said, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, “thank you.” 

“I love you.” 

Now /that/ actually took your breath away.


	2. Tamriel for Amateurs - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i had a dream about arthur wandering around tamriel with a big daedric sword and a scandinavian accent

Jarl Van der Linde sat in his throne, a terrible snow storm raging outside. His court sat at the long table in front of him, eating and drinking merrily, happy to be out of the snow. In the chair at his right hand was the strongest Nord in Winterhold, decked in ebony armor made by the finest blacksmith, wielding the deadliest sword on Nirn’s curve. Arthur had been born in blood, raised by the Jarl himself along with the court wizard, Hosea. 

The three of them together had braved harsh winters, unforgiving raiders, starvation. After the White-Gold Concordat had been installed, they faced even more brutal conditions. Jarl Van der Linde kept fighting for the Nords of Skyrim, kept pummelling the elves with everything he had. He rose to Jarl status just several years prior to their current position and kept his city of Windhelm safe, it’s walls high and strong. 

Tonight was proving difficult to keep warm, however. 

Arthur skulked at his side, Hosea kept his distance, head buried in a book. They had just returned from a long excursion, one against the elves again. Arthur was growing tired of the constant skirmishes, finding no direction in the Jarl’s plans. It seemed endless, one battle after another. 

“Have faith, my old friend,” the Jarl had said, “soon we won’t have to fight anymore.” 

Arthur would keep his faith, even if it meant more pummelling. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash, the large wooden doors of the castle had been thrown open and a violent flurry of snow covered them all for a moment. The merriment died down as the intruder let the doors close behind them before striding up to the throne.

“Who in the hell?” the Jarl started incredulously, standing up from his throne. Arthur stood up too, his sword at the ready and instinctively stepping in front of his Jarl. 

The warrior was dressed in a sleek, bluish leather cloak, complete with hood and gloves. Their face was obscured and a large, black bow towered over their head, seeming to glow with a green aura. 

Arthur didn’t flinch when the warrior stopped in front of them and bowed their head slightly. They took off their hood and Arthur was greeted with the most stunning face he’d ever seen. 

A wood elf, slightly taller than him, long black hair with small braids festooned with feathers, eyes like a forest at night. 

“I need to speak with the Jarl, please.” 

The elf’s voice was low, calm but powerful. It commanded as much as it persuaded, making Arthur involuntarily lower his sword. 

“You were at the chopping block with me, weren’t you, elf?” Jarl Van der Linde gently pushed Arthur to the side and approached the elf. 

“I was.” 

“I’m glad to see you have also escaped the tyranny of the Imperials as I have.” 

The elf nodded, eyes flicking towards Arthur. 

“As part of my training, I have been tasked with helping the people of this land, and so I have come to you to offer my experience. I wish to be of some use in helping the Nords defend their land.” 

“An elf?” the Jarl laughed, “Helping the Nords take back Skyrim?” 

He looked around at his group and guffawed, earning a hearty roar of laughter from the table. Behind him, Hosea did not laugh, nor Arthur at his side. Jarl Van der Linde stopped abruptly and faced the elf face to face. 

“And why should I trust you?” 

The wood elf seemed to square up, meeting the Jarl head on. Arthur had never seen someone brazenly stand up to the Jarl like this in many a year. 

“If you hadn’t noticed,” he hissed, “I’m not a High Elf, nor am I one of the Dark Elves you keep cooped up in a corner of your city.” The Jarl growled at this. “I am a Bosmer of Valenwood, a refugee of my land along with my family. I have fought for this country before alongside Nords, just as you have. I have spilled the blood of Imperials to defend Nord cities. I will continue to fight for our country, with or without your help.”

There was a deadly silence in the hall. The wind whistled outside. 

“Friend, I’m honored to have you fight by our side,” the Jarl finally said, “but we never got your name.” 

“I am Charles, the Dragonborn of Skyrim.”


	3. Arthur at Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i really like blowjobs bye

Anonymous asked:   
Ugh Arthur’s thighs can you do an Arthur x reader nsfw where Arthur gets really turned on when she touches his thighs while giving him a massage after a tough day? 

(i most certainly Fucking can, partner)

It’s your turn to do the laundry and you attempt to not be grumpy about it. It’s just that while Arthur didn’t have that many clothes, the clothes he did have were stained, torn, splattered with blood, grass marks on the knees, claw marks in the back. You set the basket down on a rock by the edge of a river and bring out a pair of his pants, which were so dirty at this point they still held their shape. 

“I see you over there, Arthur,” you call, tossing the pants back in the basket and turning around, “you’re not sneaky.” 

Arthur emerges from the trees and you’re shocked, although not bothered, to see that he is completely naked but for a small, linen cloth he has wrapped around his waist, broad chest on display for all the country to see. Out of courtesy, you turn away and focus on the clothes. 

“Not tryna be,” he grumbles, taking pleasure in the fact that your face is turning a delicate shade of red, “just wanted to see where my clothes had gotten off to.”

He stops by the edge of the river and dips his toes in the water. 

“Been a while since I had a bath, too,” he says, stretching, “makes sense to wash it all at the same time, doesn’t it?” 

“Sure, Arthur,” you say, and set the basket in the water. You manage to flick your eyes to where he was standing and damn that man. Arthur throws his cloth away and wades into the water and plunges to submerge himself. It was sort of cute, the way he seemed to play in the water, scrubbing the dirt out of his hair and from his fingernails. You continue to scrub makeshift soap into someone’s pair of jeans as he steps back onto the beach and wrings his hair out pulling the cloth back on him.

“You’re a caveman, Arthur Morgan.” 

“That soap just good for clothes, miss?” 

You feign offense, placing your hand over your chest. 

“Who do you think I am, Mister Morgan?” 

He approaches you and you know in your heart that whatever he asked you next, you would absolutely agree to do. 

“Think you could help me scrub some of this dirt off my person?” 

You take a deep breath and jump off the deep end. 

“Well I suppose I should take it as a compliment,” you huff, pushing him back against a particularly flat rock and kneeling between his naked legs, “that I somewhat resemble one of your bath girls.” 

You take the soap and lather up your hands,drinking in the sight of his legs. While he had indeed taken a swim, he was still filthy. You decide to start on his left calf, the one he had helpfully stretched out towards you. He was leaning back on his elbows and looking down at you with a stupid smug look on his face. 

“Bath girls ain’t got nothin’ on you, darlin’.” 

You knead his calf, massaging the soap into it as slowly as you could. Any chance to get your hands on the great chiseled statues that were Arthur’s thighs was an opportunity to be savored. You dip your hands in the water and wash the soap away, revealing the cleanest calf you’d ever seen. 

You finish his other calf and moved up some to reach his thighs, not even bothering with the soap now because you can see the arousal in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you so calmly but his breathing is picking up. You notice the obvious bulge straining against his undergarments and damn if you aren’t impressed. 

You rub the heel of your hand up and down the tight muscles in his thighs, watching him tilt his head back and making the most delicious groan you’d ever heard. Your thumbs slide along his inner thigh, softer but still defined, slipping just slightly under the edge of the cloth. You chance a look at him.

“You gonna tease me all day?” 

You probably could, but you wanted to rip as many of those sweet noises out of his throat as you were able to. 

Both hands slide under the cloth and moved it away, his member free and painfully hard. He shivers as you grasp it in one hand and take one last look at him before sinking down on it completely, letting him hit the back of your throat.

He lets out a cry and damn it, you’re wet as hell now, aching to ride him into the sunset. You steady your breathing and pull up some, letting your tongue slide along the length of his cock before pushing back down again. 

He hisses through his teeth, grabbing your shoulder with one hand. 

“God damn,” he manages to say and you hum around him,” god damn miss, you’re killing me.” 

Not yet I ain’t, you think, speeding up and adding a hand, twisting lightly up his length and brushing a thumb over the head. His other hand gently buries itself in your hair as yours grab his thick thighs, holding on as hard as you could. 

He comes with a whimper, his head thrown back and you wish you could get a better look but you’re busy milking every drop out of him. You’re pressed between his thighs which have unconsciously been squeezing you tighter and tighter the entire time. Now they relax, letting you free from a cage that you would gladly imprison yourself in. 

“Bet your bath girls ain’t never done that for you,” you say smugly, standing up and looking down at that puddle of a man.

“Now she does.” 

Oh good. You’re a bath girl now, too.


	4. Exit, Pursued By a Bruised Ego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Can you do an Arthur x reader where they decide to just do foreplay and have a competition to see who can get each other off faster?
> 
> (good lord i hope i did this justice)

“Arthur, I’m so bored.” 

It was the third time you had said so and Arthur was just as resilient in not answering you. 

He continued whittling away at his stupid piece of wood, so content to just stare into the fire and think about… whatever it was Arthur thought about, you supposed. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

“How nice it would be to listen to silence for a while.” 

Infuriating.   
You lay back on the bedroll and watched the clouds pass by overhead and try to think about nothing, just like your stubborn cowboyfriend. It doesn’t work. You find your thoughts drifting to several nights ago, when he had you pinned against a tree, one hand cupping a breast and the other between your legs. He had managed to make you come three times in a row, something you didn’t think was possible. 

Then you thought about those strong fingers, so delicate with you. You bet you were still better, after all, who knew their way around your pussy better than you? 

You slid your hand down and started rubbing lightly, trying to make your moans sound enticing enough to get Arthur to come over but not so much to make them sound unbelievable. 

It worked. He looked over and you saw his eyes go wide. 

“Are you crazy?” he said, “without me?” 

“Figured I could do it better than you could.”

“Is that so?” 

He got up and strode over, placing a knee down on either side of your hips. 

“Why don’t we have a friendly competition, then?” he said, unbuckling his belt. It fell to the ground with a satisfying clatter. “We’ll see who’s better at pleasin’ the other.” 

“What do I get when I win?” you tease, grabbing his already hard dick through his pants and squeezing. 

“Oh, you are real full of yourself, ain’t you?” 

You grab his shirt collar and pull him down for a kiss. You almost forget you’re competing, he kisses so well. You tap him on the chest and feel very strong for a moment as you flip him onto his back and sit on his chest, facing his ever-growing erection. 

“Now this ain’t fair-” 

“Hush.” 

You lean down and pull his cock out, it’s already leaking and you suck it lightly. He thrusts his hips up and moans, grabbing your ass and pulling you to his mouth. His tongue hits your clit and you have to push him back into your mouth to stop the stupidly loud scream you want to let out. 

He pushes a finger inside you and sucks harder, making your hand slide down to cup his balls and pushing him all the way to the back of your throat. 

It’s a tangled mess to see who can get the other there first and the both of you are losing your strength quickly. You keep him down your throat and suck as best as you can, the hand on his balls squeezing lightly and he loses it for a moment, smacking your ass. He retaliates by pushing two more fingers in and fucking you with them gently. 

It’s too much and you have to come up for air. Your hand wraps around him and you couldn’t care less about getting him off, you just want to come as hard as you can all over his lips and he thumbs your clit just the right way and god there it is, you let out a cry and curse his name and shake all over as it hits you. 

Before you can think he’s flipped you over and straddling your chest, your hands gripping his tree trunk thighs as he fucks your throat for three full seconds and he falls apart on you, too. 

You both lay there, trying desperately to catch your breath. 

“/When/ you win,” he laughs, mocking you and your bravado.

“Screw you, Arthur.”


	5. You're Alright, Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Could you please write something that includes Arthur teaching the inexperienced reader how to give a bj? And also slipping in a, “good girl” or, “that’s my girl....” because I need to hear him say it one. more. time. Pretty please with Arthur on top?
> 
>  
> 
> (Partner I am all about Arthur on top)

Arthur was giving you that look again. He was across the campfire from you, next to Uncle and Javier as they sang loudly. You had just joined the gang but felt like you were fitting in just fine, despite the fact that you were still just a kid.

Well, maybe not /that/ young, but the way some of the older folks treated you left something to be desired. Especially Arthur. Sometimes you didn’t know if you wanted to fight him or fuck him. Not that you knew how to do either of those things. Best not let him know that.

He stood up and stretched, nodding his goodnights to everyone around the campfire. He stopped when he got to you.

“Y/n, I’ll be needin’ your help by the kitchen before I turn in.”

You rolled your eyes. Just because you were the new girl meant you were queen of the kitchen, right?

You stood up and followed him to the darkness of the kitchen wagon, then followed him as he went further.

“Mister Morgan?” You asked curiously, “Where are we going?”

He merely grunted at you. When the darkness was pressing in on all sides and the moon’s light barely broke through the trees he took you by the shoulders, spinning you around and kissing you wildly.

The air left your lungs and you pulled away.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this, girl.”

Oh you did. You had since the moment you laid eyes on him. You just hadn’t expected him to want you back. And now here you were, Arthur Morgan at your fingertips and you had no idea what to do with him.

He seemed to sense this and grabbed your hand, pushing it down against himself and squeezing. You swallowed, of course your first time would be with someone huge.

“I-I don’t-“ you stammered and he silenced you with a kiss.

“I’ll show you.”

He unzipped his pants and brought his cock out, semi hard already. God, you wanted to do everything right for this man.

“Get on your knees,” he said softly and you complied, face level with his waist now. He guided your hand around it and as you started pumping, his head went back against the tree.

“Is this good, Mister Morgan?”

“I’m sure you could do better.”

You were damn determined to be good for him so you threw caution to the wind and sucked his head into your mouth, making shallow little strokes along his length.

“You’re all tongue, girl,” he chuckled and pulled your face back, thumbing a cheek, “slower. Put your hand around the base there…” he locked your finger as such and put his hand on the top of your head, “…and suck.”

You knew you wouldn’t master it in a night but you tried your damnest anyway, twisting your hands like he taught you and slowly sliding him as far as you could in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he moaned, petting the back of your head and bucking his hips slightly, making his head hit the back of your throat. You gagged a little, not the sexiest, but found you could manage it.

You kept at it, keeping his cock as deep in your throat as you could manage, sucking when you could. It was messy and uncoordinated but you loved it and it seemed like he did too.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his breath getting more and more uneven, “keep going sweetheart you’ve almost got it.”

You tried to moan around his dick, hand flying down between your own thighs to relieve some of the pressure. He came all at once, letting out a muffled cry between his knuckles and slowed his hips down.

He jerked a bit as you kept sucking, determined to get every last drop out of him before leaning back on your heels and looking up at him, face red, lips swollen.

“You did so good, darlin’” he crooned, cupping your face and wiping a bit of cum from the corner of your mouth.

That’s when you heard the clatter of pans from behind you, lantern shining on Pearson’s shocked face.

Oops.


	6. An Honest Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> hi, i love your writing! i was wondering if you could you please write something where arthur x f! reader are together but get into a huge fight, and maybe dont talk for a few days but arthur tries to make amends because he doesnt want another failed love? with a happy ending preferably! :’)
> 
> (i may not be good at smut, but i am good at being an overdramatic asshole)

“Are there more than four words in your lexicon?” you asked, keeping as much venom out of your voice as you could.

Arthur grunted at you, making things infinitely worse.

“Here, I’ll just have the whole conversation for us,” you sniped, standing up and throwing your hands on your hips and doing the worst impression of Arthur ever done, “‘just leave me alone woman, there ain’t nothin’ I want to say to you right now.’ Well, Arthur, there’s a ton of stuff I need to say to you because if you haven’t noticed, we’re not doing too well right now. ‘Probably because you won’t shut the hell up.’ Don’t tell me to shut up, Arthur.”

“Seems like you got it under control then,” he huffed, pulling his hat down and leaning further against the tree.

“I don’t know what I expected.”

“Well what do you want from me?”

“Tell me what’s bothering you, let me help you.”

“You really want to know what’s bothering me?” he asked, standing up and looking down at you.

“Please, tell me.”

“You are.”

“I don’t know why I try with you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t anymore then.”

“I won’t.”

And you stomped off.

Maybe it was better if you two just went your separate ways. You could probably make it on your own in Valentine. You heard Strawberry was an up and coming town too. Hell, maybe he’d care more about you if you were more westward than here.

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t see Charles and ran straight into him.

“Oh Charles,” you bumbled, steadying yourself as he caught your arms, “I’m so sorry.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just,” you struggled, throwing your hands up, “had it out with Arthur again.” You looked apologetic, dragging people in your business wasn’t your cup of tea.

“He can be a difficult nut to crack,” he smiled and you felt better. Charles seemed so genuine, you didn’t mind talking with him about your problems.

“Maybe I’m not cut out to be with you folk,” you said.

“Don’t say that, y/n,” he said gently, placing a hand on your shoulder, “you’ve fit in better than most stowaways we’ve brought on. We got lucky with you and Sadie.”

“I think I’m gonna go camping,” you said, looking out towards the trees.

“At this hour?”

“Can I borrow your percolator?”

Charles nodded and had the grace to not ask how long you’d be.

Waking up to an open sky was not something you’d done in a while and to be honest, you’d do it all the time if you could. There was a big, outcrop of rocks to the east of Horseshoe Overlook that you loved, so you had gone there. Unfortunately, it reminded you of the first time you and Arthur had kissed. He had been so shy and gentle with you, cupping your face with his broad hand and kissing your bottom lip so slightly he felt like a cloud. That was two months ago.

Charles’ percolator bubbled away and you looked at the sky around you, cloudless and crisp. It was strange, not having anywhere to be. You were a good hunter and were able to grab a rabbit every night, gamey as it may be. You tried to not worry about what Arthur was doing, if he cared about how long you were gone. To be fair, you had not told anyone where you were going and had taken care to cover your tracks.

Part of you just wanted to leave for good.

You did have all your things with you, it wouldn’t be hard to keep going west, maybe as far as New Austin. You couldn’t even remember what you and Arthur had been fighting about originally, just that he wouldn’t open up and tell you what was upsetting him. What the hell made you think you were special? What made you could stroll in and just unlock the secrets to this beautiful man? Stupid.

You angrily packed up your camp and mounted your horse. Valentine wasn’t far, you’d stop and load up on supplies before heading out. No one would miss you.

About halfway there you heard the sound of gunfire, coming just up the road. You hitched your horse on a tree and grabbed your rifle, cresting the hill carefully. There were three men with their backs to you, shooting at someone a ways up.

“Kill ‘im, lads!” you heard one of them say. Damn O’Driscolls.

With ease you dispatched them, one, two, three. When you were sure the coast was clear you stood up and waved to the figure down the road, who was walking towards you.

“You alright partner?” you called.

“Y/n?”

Oh shit. What divine intelligence placed the two of you together again?

“Arthur,” you greeted as the two of you approached. You stopped about ten feet apart.

What did you even say to each other.

“Where’s Rachel?” you ask. Rachel was his horse that he had stolen from the O’Driscolls just before moving to Horseshoe Overlook.

“They shot her,” he sighed, looking back to where she lay, “bastards ambushed me.”

“Arthur I’m so sorry,” you said, and you were. He smiled at you.

“S’alright,” he shrugged, “she weren’t no Bodacea.”

You hummed at him.

“What were you doin’ out here anyway?” you asked.

“Was helpin’ an old friend out,” he said sheepishly.

“Okay, that’s good,” you nodded. Could you stand to be more awkward?

“Her name’s Mary,” he offered, looking at you apologetically. The way he said it made you sad, even though you damn well you weren’t the first, and probably not the last.

“Alright, well,” you said, whistling for your horse, “you need some help, then? Can’t be too useful without a horse.”

“I wouldn’t want to burden you, y/n,” he said, mounting your horse behind you and putting his hands on your hips for support.

“Where we headed?” you asked, spurring your horse.

“Cumberland Forest.”

After riding for a few minutes, Arthur bends down to your ear.

“Where did you run off to, anyway?”

“I went camping.”

“For five days?”

“Why are you so interested?”

“I was worried,” he finally said, leaning back again like he hoped you wouldn’t hear it. You’d help him get the woman he wanted back and then leave camp for good.

The place you were going turned out to be full of loons and it came down to you to chase this poor fool down, Arthur bouncing around behind you as he tried to lasso him. The boy tried to off himself but Arthur was too quick, shooting the gun out of his hand and running to catch him as he fell.

Arthur could say whatever the hell he wanted, but he was a good man under it all.

“You still got your horse, boy?” he asked, holding the kid up.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Good, get him and we’ll follow you back to town to make sure no one gets the drop on you.”

Arthur hopped up on the back of your horse again and told you to follow the boy to where Mary was staying. And you get to meet her, too? This was shaping up to be a great day.

“You weren’t planning on leaving us, were you?” he asked, “you know we have a code.”

“Is that a threat?” you shot back at him.

“No, I just meant-”

“I don’t care what you meant,” you cut him off, “I’ll speak with Dutch when we get back and let him know I’ll be leaving first thing.”

“Why did you help me then?” he asked. There was a hidden question in there, one you didn’t need him to elaborate on.

“Because you silly fool,” you were on the verge of tears, “I love you. And I don’t care who you’re true to or who you are, that’s not gonna change. I will always be there for you.” You stop and consider your actual position. “Which is why I’m stayin’, I guess. If y’all will have me.”

He didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride. When you arrived at Mary’s place, he hopped down and held out his arms for you. You reached out and he helped you down, keeping his hands on your waist and looking at you, finally looking at you.

“I don’t want you to leave, y/n,” he finally said, a smile creeping onto his face, “and I’m sorry for being an ass. You’ll have to teach me how to act in a union like this.”

“What makes you think that’s good enough?”

“It ain’t,” he said, “but stick around and let me be good enough for you.” 

You beamed as he swooped down and kissed you and you didn’t realize how much you had missed him.

“I won’t run off no more,” you said, walking with him up to the house.

“It seemed to work out in our favor this once,” he laughed and slipped his arm around your waist.

The look on Mary’s face would have been sad if you didn’t have the world’s most amazing man wrapped around you.


	7. Savagery Unleashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> How about a male reader, where Arthur is hesitant to admit to his attraction to him but after the reader teases him back at camp by the fire, Arthur drags him away and tops him?
> 
> (haven’t done this in a while, hope you like it!!)

Alright, these were the tightest jeans you owned and if this didn’t do it, nothing would. Everyone was sat at the scout campfire, singing and drinking. You peeked out of your tent to see if Arthur was there and sure enough, he was sat in his usual spot, smoking a cigarette and keeping out of the conversation. A man of few words.

You took your spot across from him and John tapped your knee.

“How you doin’ tonight, y/n?”

“Almost didn’t come out,” you said, stretching and letting your shirt ride up. Desperate times called for desperate measures, “too tired.”

It had been a hot day and most of the camp’s members had stripped down as much as they could to deal with the sweltering heat. Of course, you had taken the opportunity to strip down to your ranch pants and suspenders, leaving your bare chest to gleam in the sun. You were also quite pale, having staying indoors or in the shade most of your life, but maybe Arthur was into people he could throw around like a sack of potatoes.

Indeed, you had seen him flicking glances at you as you threw around actual sack of potatoes, hoping your skinny arms were enough to get him going. He was a hard man to read. At one point, you sauntered up to his tent where he lay with his journal. He looked up at you and your sweat covered brow and wet chest and looked murderous.

“Anything I can do for you, Mister Morgan?”

He looked like he had a lot of things for you to do, but he politely said-

“You can wash my clothes over there.”

Your eyes had flicked to the pile on the trunk at the foot of his bed and you gathered them up in your arms.

“Want to come watch me?” you asked, “just to make sure I do it right.”

“You sayin’ you can’t wash a load of clothes right?”

You rolled your eyes at him. Buzzkill.

Still, you felt a pair of eyes piercing into your back as you had left.

Now you had your shirt back on but had left the top unbuttoned, just as Arthur had. You knew he wanted you, but damn if you were going to make the first move. Your saving grace came as Abigail approached and saw John sitting next to the fire. You sprung up and offered your seat.

“Here Miss Roberts,” you said, moving out of the way.

“Why thank you, y/n,” she replied with a hint of surprise, sitting down next to John, “you’re a true gentlemen.”

You bowed and turned around, giving Arthur a deadly grin. He groaned and budged up, making room for you on the little blanket spread out on the ground.

“Glad to see you again, Mister Morgan,” you said quietly. Everyone was drinking and off in their own worlds, hardly paying attention to either of you. Arthur drained the last of his beer and threw the bottle somewhere in the distance.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to open up a bit you know,” you said when Arthur didn’t say anything. You couldn’t get caught up with feelings but here you were. Arthur grunted again.

“Good to see you too, y/n,” he finally said as if there were a gun to his head.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” you chuckled, putting a hand on his thigh lightly. You looked around to see if anyone was watching you but they were all too plastered to see three feet in front of them. Arthur seemed to notice this too and looked down at your hand.

“Where are you goin’ with that, boy?”

Shit if you could hear that tone for the rest of your life you’d die happy.

“Sorry, sir,” you apologized, squeezing his thigh and removing your hand, “I suppose I’ll just stick to washing your clothes for you.”

You gave him a side glance and noticed the growing bulge in the front of his jeans and felt so damn proud of yourself.

“I’m heading to my tent for the evening,” you said, thumbing at the waist of your pants and moving them down a bit, just to show him there was nothing underneath.

“Alright kid,” he growled and grabbed you by the arm, yanking you up. He held up a hand to the onlookers (the few that had the mental capacity to know there was something going on). “S’alright, gonna show him how to tie up the horses for the night.”

“You gonna tie me up, Mister Morgan?” you asked.

“I’m gonna do a lot more than that,” Arthur said, continuing to drag you to the shadowy part of the camp, just beyond the hitching station but not far enough to lose light from the fires.

He slams you against a tree and you just can’t help but smile.

“I don’t know what you’re smilin’ about, boy,” he says, grabbing you by the hip and bucking his into it. That wipes the grin off your face and you let out a moan, oh god how you’ve waited for this.

“Just happy you’ve come to your senses, sir,” you manage to get out.

“My senses?” he repeats incredulously, undoing his belt and trying to get his pants down, “at least I got some because you don’t seem to have any.”

Probably not. You help him get his pants down and grab his cock, squeezing hard and getting a decent moan out of him. You could do better.

He grabs you by a shoulder pushes you down to your knees, an unspoken command that would have sounded really hot coming from him but you weren’t about to push your luck. You take him in your mouth at once, sucking like it was the cure for TB. You got another long moan out of him and he rakes his fingers through your hair, tugging it to one side.

“Get it nice and wet,” he said, thrusting his hips gently into your throat. You could do this all day but the promise of his dick inside of you was too good to pass up. You let his head hit the back of your throat one more time and squeeze his balls a little before standing back up and wiping your mouth.

The sight was apparently too much for Arthur, who tugged your hair again and kissed you hard, his rough stubble against yours because you were both barbarians who didn’t have the time to shave but it made him look so much more handsome. He released you and spun you around, pining you to the tree and you helped him with your pants as much as you could, spreading your legs to accommodate him.

He pushed two fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them as pornographically as you could and he pressed his cock against your ass, grinding on your entrance and it made you press your forehead against the tree. You were already beginning to sweat as he slid his wet fingers down your back, the top of your ass, and finally down to your hole, pressing lightly with one finger. 

“You better be ready for me,” he near whispered in your ear and you nodded fiercely. He pushed a finger in and you had to relax as best as you could. His fingers felt huge, you wondered how he’d fit the rest of his gigantic dick in you. He fucked you slowly with one, then two fingers, stretching you slowly and it became easier for you to relax as he put another hand on your hip. He slid it around to grab your own half-erection, jerking you just as slowly and kissing your ear, your neck, biting that space between your shoulder and collarbone.

You were as ready as you’d ever be, breathing shallow and pinned against this tree ready to accept this beast of a man finally. For all his gruffness and talk, the way he held you was so gentle, so soft. He put a hand on your hip and took his cock in the other, lining it up with your entrance and pushing so slowly. You let your breath out in a hiss and bit a knuckle.

“You okay, boy?”

Good lord you were more than okay, you were soaring, but all you could do was nod your head and push back just the tiniest bit into him.

He pushed further and further, achingly slow until after what seemed like weeks he was buried completely inside you. The pair of you let out a breath you’d been holding and he grabbed your hip just a little tighter.

“Hold on, there,” his tone was hushed and he sounded miles away but also in every bone in your body. He began to move the tiniest bit, pulling out just a little and snapping his hips back up. You reached down and began jerking yourself in time with his movements, pushing back each time he thrust into you.

Your back was covered in sweat and Arthur began pumping faster, the sound of your bodies hitting each other in the dark was muffled but you wish you could have heard his moans a little more. He was breathing hard, grabbing both of your hips now and you thought maybe next time you could get him to slap your ass a little. Provided there was a next time.

You looked over your shoulder and saw his open shirt exposing a hard chest, barely visible in the firelight, his bare hips pounding into you and you lose it, coming all over your hand and barely stifling a cry. It seemed to spur him on and he slammed into you hard a few times before digging his blunt nails into your hips and letting out a long moan of his own.

You both stand there, catching your breath as he slowly released his grip from you. He pulled out carefully, stumbling back to let you turn around and pull your pants up.

“You try that again, I won’t be so nice next time,” he said, redoing his own clothes and pointing a threatening finger at you.

“So there will be a next time then?” you tease, sauntering up to him.

He grunts at you and allows you to kiss him, smiling at you as you pull away. Man of few words.


	8. American Distillation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Could you please write something with Arthur x reader (already dating?) involving alcohol and some light femdom? Dom!A is great but getting that boy all riled up and at your mercy...whew
> 
> (thank you for the prompt friend! this got wildly out of hand, I’m sorry)

The Valentine saloon was crowded that night, more crowded than the gang had ever seen it. Arthur had to wait more than /five minutes/ for his six shots of whiskey and that was the worst thing that had ever happened to him in his life.

He headed back to the table and you could see him visibly blush, or maybe that was just the three shots of whiskey he’d already had. You were only on your second, you wanted to keep your wits about you. Before the gang had arrived and started drinking, you had reserved a room upstairs for… antics. Dutch wasn’t the only one who could have a stupid plan.

He sat down to raucous applause and passed the drinks to everyone. They all toasted to good times and began a new round of poker. Good fuck you were bad at poker but you were sitting across from Arthur for a reason. You slid your shoe off and started sliding your foot up Arthur’s leg.

Lenny shot you a look of shock and your eyes widened, mustering the best “I’m sorry” face you could. He chuckled good-naturedly and gave you a wink.

Okay, /that/ was Arthur’s leg, you could tell this time because he jumped slightly and narrowed his eyes at you. You absolutely lost the round and couldn’t care less, watching Arthur become more and more undone as your foot made it to his lap. He lost two packs of smokes and a small flask but he’d lose a lot more than that later, you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much.

“Another round!” Lenny cried and winked at you again. God bless that man.

More rounds down and the entire saloon broke out in song. Arthur was still having trouble standing up so you came over and sat in his lap, tracing a collarbone with your finger and bending down to whisper in his ear.

“You want to come upstairs with me?” you asked, nipping at his earlobe.

“You cost us a pack of smokes, woman,” he grunted, squirming beneath you.

“Two packs,” you corrected him, “and if you’ll remember, you cost us an entire deer earlier.”

He cocked his head, oh yeah. His loud ass came crashing through the woods to find you and scared your tracked kill away. Rabbits for dinner it was.

“Well you shouldn’t have been hunting so close to cam-”

“Shut up.”

The edge in your voice made him close his mouth entirely, or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, you were suddenly drunk on power and decided to see how far you could take it.

You took him by his necktie and dragged him to his feet, pulling him into a kiss as you went. You fumbled your way to the stairs and began to coax him up with you.

When you got to your door you pushed him through it and he stumbled back onto the bed as you closed and locked your room. He began undressing and you walked over and grabbed him by the wrist. He almost looked offended but for the fire in your eyes.

“As I say,” you growled. Arthur narrowed his eyes at you again. He was going to be tough to break.

You approached him and stood at arm’s length, crossing your arms at him.

“Take off your coat.”

He did, then started with his necktie and shirt.

“I said,” you pulled out a switch from literally nowhere and smacked it on the bed, “your coat.”

His arms went down to his sides and he gulped.

You proceeded to make Arthur undress himself, slowly, until finally he was completely naked on the bed in front of you.

You had layers of scarves on for a reason, and now Arthur saw why too. They came off in waves from around your neck and you gently pushed him onto his back raising his arms above his head near the metal bars at the headboard.

“You remember that time we went fishing out on the boat?” you asked him, taking each scarf and wrapping it around his wrist and the headboard. He nodded his head. “You remember how I ain’t too good at tyin’ knots then?” He nodded again and you sat up, letting your heat rest just on his lap.

“I’ll trust you to not fuss with those then,” you hissed, nodding to the crappy knots around his wrists and the headboard. He looked predatory and it was so hard to just not rip your skirt off and start bouncing on him.

But watching his pretty dick swell as you worked at the bonds on his ankles made you determined to see this thing through. You would have Arthur Morgan begging for you by the end of the night.

You thought he would be more out of it at this point but something about the whole situation seemed to sober him up and he just looked at you like you were the most curious thing. You doubted anyone had tied this man up and lived to tell about it.

You raked your nails up his legs, his thighs, exaggeratedly avoided his lap as he bucked up to meet you. You kissed up his stomach and chest, placing tiny bites around his nipples and shoulders, felt him straining beneath you for something more. Poor guy.

You stood up and slipped out of your dress as painfully slow as you could, ignoring your own basic urges seeing him there sweating and at your mercy, hard out of his mind and powerless.

You climbed on top of him again, scooting up to rest on his chest.

“Can I trust you to make me cum with just your tongue,” you asked, grabbing the almost forgotten switch and teasing it up his leg, “or do I need to teach you how?”

He mumbled something and you reminded him where the switch was.

“Speak up, baby,” you said, sitting back some.

“Tell me,” he finally said. Your heart broke at the thought of someone abusing this man to the point of muteness and you vowed to open him up again.

You hummed at him and moved up again, hovering above his lips and he pushed himself off the mattress as far as he could to try and taste you.

“Easy, darlin’,” you cautioned, making him fall back again, letting out a moan, “just use your tongue at first.” You felt him nod and the tip of his tongue on your clit, easy like you taught him. You rolled your hips around on his face, making him lean up and suck on you when he could. You almost forgot you were supposed to be the one in control here and lifted your hips up, making him gasp.

“Come back,” he panted in a voice so timid you wouldn’t have known it was him if he wasn’t physically rolling around beneath you.

It was going to be tough for you to get off like this, alcohol or not, so you moved down to hover above his hips. He was leaking and swollen and you almost felt bad but for all the times he teased you. You grabbed his cock and he let out a cry, throwing his head back and lord he looked so resplendent in the lamplight.

Slowly you started rubbing your clit with the head of his dick and yeah this would work fine. He looked down at you, breathing so hard, his wrists straining at the headboard. You worked at yourself faster, breathing heavy and throwing your head back as you came, Arthur’s name ripping from your throat.

You looked back at him breathless and figured you’d put him through enough tonight.

“What do you want now, Arthur?” you managed to say. 

“You,” he breathed, “please, just you.”

That was enough.

“Take me, then.”

In a flash, his wrists and ankles were unbound (damn, you didn’t think the knots were /that/ bad) and he had you in his arms, rolling you over on your back and entering you in one swift movement.

Less than three seconds and he was gone, burying his face in your neck and kissing it, saying your name over and over and you would have gone again if your entire body wasn’t so gloriously exhausted.

You both lay there for a moment before he pushes himself up, still inside you and kisses you again, this time intentional and delicate. He motions to the switch, now lying on the floor.

“Gonna use that thing on me next time?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, “or are you too chickenshit?”

“You insolent little shit,” you laugh, slapping him playfully on the shoulder.

The door decided to blast open at that moment (wait, were your knots /and/ locks that awful??) and Lenny barrelled in, two bottles of beer in hand. You screeched and covered yourself with the blanket as Arthur tore out of bed, ass out fully and ran over to grab one.

“Lennayyyyy!!!”


	9. Hell Hath No Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna asked:  
> Hey, yeah uh I am enthralled by your work and I check in daily, so I was wondering, if you could write one where reader joins the gang to meet with the grays, notices the gun pointing at Sean's head, shoves him out of the way, and ends up getting shot in the lungs, (can't talk or make noise for a bit, hehehe,) and Micah takes advantage of that, and drags reader into woods, (close to forced but not exactly) but Arthur steps in, beats the Shit out of Micah, and Major Fluff at the end between reader and arthur. Thank you. Smut is optional
> 
> (any prompt that saves Sean is an A+ prompt in my book, also disclaimer, the only type of GSW i am intimately familiar with is one to the head, so pls forgive my lack of gun injury knowledge i realize you would probably die if shot anywhere in the trunk in 1899)
> 
> TW Slight non con, mentions of dying, violence

“You ain’t comin’ with us, girl.” 

It was a broken record that had gone on and on for the past few hours and yet you still stood there next to your horse, rifle in hand. Sean laughed.

“Ah, let her come, Arthur,” he said in his flawless Irish accent. Sean had always stuck up for you, even when you were being a petulant little pissant. You knew for damn sure that you shouldn’t be coming on a mission like this but had a bad feeling about this one. Any danger Arthur put himself in you wanted to be there to protect him. Like you really could. 

“Why?” Arthur spat, “so she can slow us all down and we can babysit?” 

“If you’re that worried about her, just let me watch her,” Sean suggested, putting his arm around you, “I can watch her just as well, as long as she’s in front of me.” 

He winked at you and you pushed him away.

“Pig,” you chuckled. 

“Fine,” Arthur finally said, mounting his horse, “on your own head be it.” 

As you rode into town it was too quiet. Red dust curled up in swirls around you and your caravan, each hoof step a gunshot in the silence. 

You all finally stopped in the middle of town, Sean and Bill dismounting, sending their horses away. 

“Where are all you hillbilly sons of bitches?” Sean yelled to no one in particular. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a flurry of movement and jumped from your horse, pushing Sean down to the ground as a bullet flew and caught you square in the left side of your torso. 

It felt hot and there was the unmistakable feeling of warm blood spreading down your stomach. You heard cries, more gunshots, saw Sean run to your side. The edges of your vision began to darken and became more unfocused. Strong arms lifted you and you passed out. 

Flashes of people you knew, Miss Grimshaw, Sadie’s tear stained face, Sean kissing your forehead, your mother, Arthur’s soft voice (“I’m so sorry.”), finally blackness. 

You don’t know how long it’s been but it’s dark now. Someone’s coming for you, you hope it’s Arthur. You hope you don’t die. Yout hope you’re able to tell him how you feel before you inevitably die, here or somewhere else, because you’re so stubborn you have to throw yourself in front of bullets. 

It’s not Arthur, the arms that lift you aren’t as gentle as his, they have malice in them. You can smell gunpowder and it makes you sick. You look up and the face doesn’t belong to Arthur either, it’s hard and callous. It’s Micah. 

“We’re gonna go in the woods a bit, get us some privacy,” he murmurs harshly. It’s getting darker and darker, you try and make a noise but all that comes out is a gurgle. You must have internal bleeding somewhere, hopefully it’ll kill you before you have to endure whatever Micah is about to do to you. 

He sets you down roughly on the forest floor and looks around. The light from the campfire is dim and its warmth is completely absent. You look longingly back at the camp and feel a hot tear slide down your face.

“Let’s see what all the fuss is about,” he says nastily, you notice his belt is undone and you look away, hoping the last thing you see is your home, however temporary it was, hoping the last thing you’ll feel is Arthur’s hand on your cheek. 

Micah’s kneeling between you now and you’re not dead yet. Of course the universe would be as cruel as this to you. 

Adrenaline surges and for some idiotic reason you feel the urge to fight, you start squirming, kicking your legs as best as you can, feeling warm blood start to trickle down your side. How naive of you to think you could go out without a fight. 

A crash through the woods near you, the breaking of twigs and a roar. A bear? That’s an ending you didn’t see coming. 

It was Arthur, a rage in his eyes you’d never seen, fist cocked back and headed straight towards Micah’s face. 

“Arthur I wa-” 

The fist connected with a satisfying crunch, breaking all 107 bones in Micah’s face, how would you know, you never went to school. You backed up, clutching your side and scrunching your face in pain, opening one eye to see the hell storm raining down upon the half naked man in front of you. 

The beating seemed to go on and on, until finally Arthur eased up, panting and stumbling back from Micah. His face found yours and you would have been frightened by the amount of blood on his face and arms but you were so relieved. 

Arthur rushed to you and cupped your face again, looking you up and down.

“He didn’t-?” he couldn’t bear to finish the sentence and you shook your head quickly. Arthur nodded at you and hung his head as if steeling himself. Micah stirred behind him and Arthur looked back murderously, whipping his revolver out and aiming it at him. 

“Arthur,” you blurted out, it was the first thing you’d said since you got shot. 

He stopped, looked to you and the rage in his eyes diminished. He re-trained the gun and let off a shot. Micah cried out in pain and promptly passed out from shock. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispered gently, picking you up bridal style and carrying you back to camp. 

Several people rushed up to meet you, most of them with guns out. Sadie was first, giving the two of you questioning looks. 

“Micah’s out there,” Arthur said, throwing his head in the direction of the devil, “you might want to go patch him up.” 

The color drained from Sadie’s face and she ran into the woods. 

Dutch caught up with you two near your cot.

“What the hell happened, Arthur?” he asked, helping him lower you down in the bed. 

“Micah decided to get handsy with our girl here,” he said quietly and you already felt yourself succumbing to sleep, “so I shot his balls off.” 

Dutch looked disgusted and backed away involuntarily, “Arthur I’m wounded he broke our trust.” 

“I told you he was no good,” Arthur stood up and pointed a finger to where Micah still presumably was. He wouldn’t say any more on the subject, he felt the point had come across nicely. 

“I apologize for not listening to you,” Dutch said, having the grace to look sheepish. He looked at you for a moment and put his hands on his hips. “We need to get out of here, fast.” 

“We need to move west,” Arthur said for the thousandth time, “Blackwater be damned.” 

Dutch looked at Arthur again. 

“You’re right,” he finally said, wiping a brow, “we’ll head to the Grizzlie’s passed Valentine and lie low for a while before heading back into New Austin.” 

It wasn’t the best plan, but at least they’d be getting out of the damn swamp. 

Dutch put a hand on your shoulder and left you and Arthur alone. Arthur sat by your side. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he finally managed to say, head in one hand. 

You reached out and grabbed his hand, making him look up at you. You were sure you looked god-awful, red eyes, disheveled hair, torn up clothes. With the remaining strength you had, you tugged on his hand, pulling him closer to you. 

“Kiss me,” you said when you thought he was close enough to hear your strained voice. 

He did, and you fell asleep.


	10. The King's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey ummmm can you do like a one shot or hc for Arthur x f reader where they’re in a sticky situation and she’s 9 months pregnant and Arthur has to deliver the baby??
> 
> (thank you!! Im stoked about this bc i know how childbirth works! Except mine took 45 hours so im gonna speed this up a bit…)

A bullet whizzed by your head and you cursed yourself for coming out hunting with Arthur. You just /had to prove yourself constantly. Look Arthur, I can come out hunting with you when I’m 8 and a half months pregnant, look how strong I am! 

“Keep your head down, damn it!” Arthur shouted at you, poking out for a second and getting rewarded with another bullet. 

You had your revolver in hand and were still trying to help, bless your little heart. 

“You know I care about you but you have to think about that baby too, you know,” he said, this time more gently. He popped up and fired off a shot. You heard a cry and hoped that was another one down. 

The O’Driscolls had happened to find you and seemed to have an endless supply of goons to throw at you. Arthur looked more frightened than he ever had. 

Oh shit. You grabbed your lower belly and winced. Arthur looked over.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Baby’s just kicking, dear,” you managed to say, “it’s fine.” 

In fact, you had been feeling the contractions for a few hours now and tried to ignore them but this baby was ready to come out. What a stubborn child already. 

He didn’t believe you and shot off a few more bullets, hoping one or two connected before rolling across the door to you. He put a hand on your stomach. 

“You wouldn’t be lyin’ to me, would you?” he was strained and looked you directly in the eye, the way he usually did when you were absolutely lying to him. 

“Okay,” you panted, “they’ve been coming for a few hours but I’ll be fine, just kill these bastards and get me back to camp!” Your breathing was coming out in short puffs now.” 

Arthur looked out and saw far too many men out there to kill and get you back to camp in time. 

“Shit,” he murmured, “what do you need?” 

Like you had ever done this before. 

“I don’t know,” you said through your teeth, “give me your damn coat.” 

He complied, dodging a bullet that seemed far too close and handing it to you. You put it underneath you and thanked whoever that you decided to wear a skirt hunting, it’s like you knew. 

The minutes seemed to drag on and on and the pain in your belly got worse. You could feel the stubborn little thing dropping and Arthur, the trooper, shot and shot until you finally cried out in pain, knowing it was time to push. You weren’t getting back to camp. You were going to deliver this baby right here, in the middle of a firefight with the father of your child too busy killing people. 

“ARTHUR!” you screamed and he looked over frightfully. 

“Y/n,” he stuttered, “I don’t know if I can help you, honey.” 

“You got me into this mess,” you screeched, “you’re damn well gonna help me out of it you bastard!” 

You didn’t know who he was more afraid of, you or the O’Driscolls. He shot again and hurried over as you got the rest of your skirt off and got into a squatting position, his coat underneath you. 

“What do I do?” 

“Just get under there and see if their head is poking out!” 

“Damn it…” he grumbled, shooting a man who had the audacity to come up to the porch. 

He poked his head under and put a hand on your thigh, the most gentle thing you had felt all day. 

“Oh shit,” he said.

“What?!” 

“It’s fine, I just see his head,” Arthur said, poking back up as more bullets ricocheted off the house. 

Okay good, you steeled yourself and listened as your body told you to push. You wish your mother was here, or Sadie, someone to hold your hand and tell you it was going to be okay. 

Arthur grabbed your hand with his and squeezed, offering you a small smile.

“We’ll be okay sweetheart,” he said, jumping up suddenly and shooting several times.

You screamed and pushed, feeling like you were getting nowhere. Arthur stroked your thigh and spoke to you in hushed tones, “just keep counting, y/n, you’re doing fine”, “breathe, darlin’”. It all seemed to pass by so quickly but the minutes dragged on. 

He looked down again and took in a sharp breath. 

“One more good push, y/n,” he said, stroking your calf, “put your hand down, get ready for him, darlin’.” 

One more push, one more scream and you caught your baby with Arthur’s help, almost losing your balance and falling back on your butt with a pained cry. You were in the worst pain but your baby was crying and you were crying and Arthur was crying and he jumped up one last time and shot the remaining O’Driscolls before coming back to you. 

“Is he alright?” Arthur said, stroking your hair and looking down at his son, “are you alright?!” 

Your breathing was heavy but you held your baby to your chest with your entire hand covered his little back. 

“He’s fine, Arthur,” you said tiredly, “how are you?” 

“Now that he’s here,” Arthur admitted, resting with his back against the wall, “terrified.” 

“And you weren’t terrified shooting those sons of bitches just now?” you managed to laugh.

“Nah,” he shrugged. 

You sighed again and pulled your shirt down, holding your baby to your chest to feed. Arthur looked down and became concerned.

“You’re still bleeding,” he said, getting up and taking off his shirt, putting it between your legs.

“That’s normal for a while,” you said, “we’ll just need to keep an eye on it.” 

After he was done feeding you wrapped him up in Arthur’s coat and ventured out into the sea of bodies. At Arthur’s horse, he looked back at the two of you. He reached a hand out and stroked his son’s face. 

“He looks like you,” he said softly.

“Arthur, he looks like a potato,” you laughed. 

“I wasn’t gonna say it,” he said, giving you a small smile. 

Arthur kissed your forehead and lifted you and little Lenny on his horse, riding your new family back to camp.


	11. Pouring Forth Oil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> How about one where Arthur cums on the females face?
> 
> (*punches the wall* you fucking GOT IT brother [also i dont want to bore you all so looks like arthur and you are now stuck in the 1920s as hardboiled detective and dame, please imagine this fic in black and white])

The streetlight shone down on broken bottles, a lone car sped off past you in the rain. Where was the mad man? 

You pulled your shawl around you tighter and stood as far under the awning as you could. Finally you saw the headlights sweep along the buildings next to you and a shiny black car stopped. 

You stepped in and looked out the window incredulously. 

“You certainly took your time, Mister Morgan,” you huffed, not looking at him. 

The gentleman, Arthur Morgan, reached across the seat and took your chin in his thick fingers, turning your face to him. 

He smiled, showing you his deviant side underneath all those layers of properness, and stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. It was incredibly hard to not bite it. 

“I come when I’m ready, miss,” he growled. 

He was dressed sharply, as always, hair shaved on the sides and the rest of it short, slicked back and to the side. He had a smattering of stubble along his face, he looked better when he wasn’t completely shaved and he knew it. 

You took care to dress yourself well tonight. If he was to show you off at the Mayor’s gathering you better look damn good. The shawl you wore covered your cleavage, on full display this evening under a tight fitting black dress. 

He lit a cigarette and rolled the window down a bit, offering you one. You usually didn’t smoke, but tonight you’d make an exception. You looked calm but your nerves were on fire. 

You arrived at the Mayor’s mansion and it was a glorious building, all pristine marble and hedges around the fences. 

Arthur tossed the keys to a valet and moved to your side of the car, helping you out and kissing your hand in the process. 

“I can open a door by myself, Mister Morgan,” you said, looking away from him but blushing just the same.

“Whatever you say, Miss l/n,” he chuckled, leading you inside with a hand on the small of your back. 

Once inside, a torrent of people crowded around Arthur, all attempting to talk to him at once. He waved a few away but was forced to talk to a few. You started to get bored with it all and looked longingly at the food table. 

As you were trying to decide between a chocolate cake and a tiramisu, you were dragged away, figuratively and literally, by a strong hand into a hallway. 

Arthur pushed you against a wall and kissed you, sliding a hand up your waist and down your back. You were surprised but went along with it, biting at his lip and pushing your tongue in his mouth, tasting cigarette and fine whiskey. 

You pulled away and caught your breath, placing a hand on his chest. 

“Mister Morgan, how dare you,” you feigned, looking down at the unfortunate space between you.

“Don’t pull that,” he breathed, putting a hand on the side of your neck and leaning down to place kisses along the other side up to your ear, “you know exactly what you’re doing.” 

You shivered and he saw right through your ruse. Definitely the world’s best detective. Or you were the world’s worst criminal. 

He grabbed your hand and led you further down the hallway to a bathroom, shutting the door and pushed you against the door. He took in the sight of your face, completely his to do with what he wanted. 

As if on command, you sunk to your knees, keeping your eyes focused on his the whole time. You made quick work on his belt, undoing his pants and pulling his cock out. It was only half hard, a dreadful state for someone this gorgeous. With one hand on his glorious ass, you pushed him into your mouth and within seconds he was fully hard. You took it as a compliment. 

He groaned and put one hand against the door, the other buried in your heavily made up hair. You were annoyed for a second before he started pushing into your mouth slowly. You put a hand on his balls and squeezed, earning another moan from him. Your other hand circled the girth of his dick and stroked steadily, making him growl and put his fist against the door. 

He started fucking your mouth rhymically, every once in a while hitting the back of your throat and letting out a small cry. You grabbed both of his thighs and pulled him further into you, feeling his pumping get more and more erratic as he pushed closer and closer to climax. 

You could feel him start to come and he pulled out, letting go against your open mouth. You felt his cum hot on your face and you wanted to lick it off, suck every bit out of him. It was all over your cheek, dripped down your neck, falling on your bare breasts, there seemed to be no end to it. 

He finally stopped, panting against the door and looked down at you, face red and glowing. 

You wiped some of the breed from your face with a thumb and licked it off like it was his cock again and he growled at you. 

He reached behind him and grabbed a towel. It was unfortunate that there was a knock and you had to clean up so quickly.


	12. A Strange Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Can I make a request for young Arthur x f reader where she’s been a part of the gang for a little while now and Arthur hasn’t exactly warmed up to her yet (because he’s been going through shit with Mary & Eliza) but on her birthday he gets her her own horse as an official initiation into the gang? I think it would be cute af
> 
> (anon youre great thank u for the prompt but also help im kind of in love with this AU now????)

You ran a hand through your hair, shorter than it had been since you were a toddler. The barber held a mirror in front of you and you grimaced at your reflection. At least you didn’t have to look at it for long. 

The hot summer sun beat down on your face as you exited the Saloon in Tumbleweed. You wished to shit you had a horse so you wouldn’t have to trek your way back to camp in this damn hellstorm. 

It was two miles back to camp and you settled in for a walk. Part of you hoped someone would come looking for you, but you knew they were all back at camp getting hammered. After a dry spell, Dutch had taken to spending most of his time in his tent, ignoring everyone, including his lover Annabelle. You only knew about this because you were the only one who would listen to her drunken tales of how Dutch just didn’t care anymore. 

Hosea and Bessie were often found in a corner of the camp, whispering excitedly at one another, occasionally throwing up their hands and walking away. You had grown quite fond of Bessie, looking up to her like a mother. Bessie had shown you most of the skills you held today, including sewing a button to your coat, skinning a deer, and shooting a man through the skull. 

Arthur. 

You let out an audible huff at the mere thought of the man, scaring a poor blue bird from a tree.

In the 18 months you had known the man, he had said a total of five words to you. Probably more, honestly. You had a habit of over exaggerating things, which was one of the habits he seemed to like the least about you. Not that it seemed like he enjoyed anything about you. Just before you joined the gang, he had lost his son and former lover, something you could not comprehend, so you kept your distance. 

You thought maybe it was because he just didn’t want to get close to anyone, but several months after you joined, he met a woman named Mary. She was beautiful, funny, and wormed her way into Arthur’s heart immediately. There was something off-putting about her, but of course you kept your thoughts to yourself. You had aligned yourself with Arthur’s late wife and son, not trusting of any new person to get in the way. It seemed the rest of the camp agreed with you silently.

“It ain’t right for a woman to come in benefittin’ off a man’s sufferin’ like that,” Bessie had confessed to you over snapping beans one evening. You nodded your head but kept your mouth shut. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts you didn’t notice the clopping of hooves behind you.

“Hey! Y/n!”

It was Arthur, damn it. Truth be told, you had found yourself drawn towards him, as surly and cantankerous as he could be. He slowed his horse and trotted up to you, standard grimace taking residence on his otherwise gorgeous face. 

“Where the hell have you been?” he shot at you. 

“Town,” you sniped back, “that okay?” 

He grumbled, “of course it’s okay. Just need you to be back before nightfall. Dutch wants us to stay low.” 

You look around, holding out your hands and looking pointedly at the sun. 

He rolls his eyes and holds out a hand.

You take it and head on his horse’s back, crossing your arms because you were actually twelve years old and couldn’t just talk about your emotions like an normal person. Arthur spurred his horse and headed to camp. 

“Did you have a good day, Arthur?” you ask, attempting a modicum of normalcy. 

“Yeah,” he said, eyes on the road. Perhaps he really just didn’t like you. 

The trip to camp was in silence, like it usually was. 

Miss Grimshaw met you both at the outskirts and helped you down. 

“Where have you been dear?” she asked, fussing over you. It was sweet but you wish she wouldn’t sometimes, it made you feel like a child again. 

“Just up in town,” you brushed off, “had to get out for a bit.” 

“I understand,” she clucked, brushing some hair out of your face, “I like what you’ve done with your hair.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled as Arthur walked past you both wordlessly. 

“And hello to you too, Arthur,” she called after him. He held up a hand. “He just hasn’t been the same since Mary left,” she shook her head at you, leading you to the kitchen wagon, “good riddance she may be.” 

“He seemed happy when she was around,” you pointed out, as much as it pained you.

“It’s better he greive on his own,” she said, pouring you out some soup, “without the aid of some woman coming along thinking she could fix him.” 

You nodded and started in on your soup, looking across the camp to where Arthur sat nursing a beer. Did you think you could fix him? 

____________________

A clear blue sky greeted you in the morning. You stretched out and threw your sleeping cover off of you and turned over to face the campfire.

“Ack!” 

Arthur was two feet away from you, holding a cup of coffee and nursing one of his own. 

“Get up.” 

“I was getting up,” you said groggily, pushing yourself to your feet, “until someone interrupted that process and now here we are-”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, holding out a cup of coffee to you.

“What do you know,” you said, sipping your coffee, “it can be nice it if wants.” 

“Take a walk with me.” 

“Are you gonna shoot me out back?” 

“What? No,” he shook his head and started out of the camp, “just come on. Damn fool of a woman.”

You walked for a bit in silence, no one in the camp was up yet. It was serene, listening to the birds and watching the sun rise higher and higher into the sky. 

After a while you finally spoke up.

“Are we heading into town?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What for?” 

“I figure it’s about time I put my grievances aside and speak with you,” he started, “one adult to another.” 

You were shocked.

“W-what do you mean?” 

Arthur tapped the brim of his hat and looked at a loss for once. 

“Ever since Eliza and my boy,” he started and shook his head, “ever since then I haven’t been able to cultivate relationships right with people.”

“Arthur,” you stopped him, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me. What happened with them was a tragedy, one I have no business commenting on.” 

“Be that as it may,” he went on, “you’re here with us now and you’ve proven yourself time and again. It’s time I start showing you the respect you’ve earned.”

Town was in sight now, the early morning risers beginning to stir in the streets. 

“Well I appreciate it Arthur,” you said finally, hoping that this could be the start of some kind of relationship with the man. You weren’t picky.

“Come on,” he pointed, “over here.” 

He led you to the stables where three horses were lined up in their stalls, a Tennessee Walker, an Apaloosa, and a beautiful Grullo Dun Mustang. You were instantly drawn to her. 

“Hi-ya Arthur!” the stableman greeted, “this your friend you were talking about?” 

“Mornin’,” Arthur raised a hand, “this is y/n. Y/n, meet your new horse.” He pointed to the mustang and it took every ounce of strength to not squeal wildly. 

“My new horse?” You asked, cautiously approaching the animal.

“It’s been more than long enough,” Arthur shrugged as if he wasn’t presenting you with the most amazing thing in the world, “started saving up months ago when I saw her.” 

“This beauty will stand up to just about anything,” the stableman said, bringing out a worn saddle and strapping it onto the horse’s back, “just give her a name and she’s all yours.” 

He led the horse out by her reins and brought her to you. You held a hand out and let the horse come to you. The horse nuzzled her nose into your palm and you felt true love, right there.

“Calliope.” 

“Calli-oh-what?” 

“Calliope,” you sighed, moment broken, “the Greek muse of beauty and song?”

“Well I don’t know nothin’ about that,” Arthur gruffed but looked pleased all the same. 

The pair of you waved goodbye to the stableman and led your horses outside. You turned to Arthur and hugged him tightly, receiving a hesitant pat on the back in return. 

“Thank you Arthur,” you said, mounting your horse and setting off on a trot to match Arthur’s speed, “really, this means a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “well Happy Birthday anyway.” 

Color you just the damned most breathless thing on earth.

“How did you know?” 

“I’m not as oblivious as I look,” he said, grinning at you from the brim of his hat, “and your hair looks nice too.

You were in a lot of trouble.


	13. A Fisher of Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I’m just starved for more Arthur x M!Reader fluff and/or smut so if you could hook me up with that I’ll love you forever. Us gay guys wanna project that Arthur thirst too :P
> 
> (Friend thank you for the prompt and please feel free to request any m!reader stuff from me!)

If God were real, he must have had a nice giggle crossing the paths of the pair of you. 

You and Arthur stood side by side, fishing poles in hand, dead silent for the past three and a half hours. You had been at it all day and the sun was starting to sink below the lakes’s horizon. It was breathtaking.

He turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

“Dinner?”

You grunted in agreement.

It was the most you’d spoken all day.

You and Arthur had met somewhere around three months ago and hit it off immediately. You had been inseparable partners, robbing stagecoaches together, jumping off trains, shooting O’Driscolls. Your only downside was neither of you talked. At all.

Sure, Arthur couldn’t keep his mouth shut on the subject of modern bank security and good luck getting you to shut the hell up when it came to cookware and the different ways to use it with Pearson’s creations, but when it came to each other?

Nothing. 

That time your hands brushed together when you were saddling up before the train job? Nothing. That time you stayed up until the sunrise talking about everything from stars to dust? Nothing. A few hours ago when Arthur asked if you wanted to go fishing because there wa nothing else to do and he wanted to be alone with you again?

So you fished and drank beer and didn’t say a damn word. 

Arthur stuck a piece of fish on his knife and heated it up and maybe it was the way his eyes flashed up to yours or how he gave you that smile, the one he reserved just for you, you made a miraculous effort.

“When are we going to talk about us?”

Arthur looked up at you and narrowed his eyes. 

“Ain’t nothing to talk about is there?”

You shrugged. Maybe not. You took the knife out of his hand and stood him up, looking him square in the eye.

You gave him a moment to catch his bearings before placing a hand on his shoulder and kissing him softly. When he didn’t protest, you kissed him again, deeper and pressing yourself against him. You prided yourself on your broad figure but it paled in comparison to Arthur. He was the Mount Shann to your.. small hill outside camp.

It was getting more difficult to focus on silly analogies as Arthur moved closer to you, pressing himself against your leg and lacing his fingers through your too long hair. 

“Maybe we do have something to talk about,” he said, studying you like prey. 

Before you could say anything stupid he kissed you, tongue darting across your lips and placing the smallest bites on your bottom lip. You tried keeping up but found yourself falling apart under the man’s ministrations. 

Breathless, he eased you both down on the ground and placed you gently on your back, keeping one hand in your hair and the other on your back. He moved down and kissed your neck, sliding his hand up your shirt to grab at your hips. You rolled them up into his palms and he pushed you back down.

“Awfully eager, aren’t you?” He laughed and you nodded quickly. 

“Been waiting a damn long time for this, sir,” you said, sliding your own hand up his shirt and down to thumb the waistband of his pants. You wanted to grab him so bad, see what he was hiding under those too tight ranch pants of his, that teasing bastard. 

“You don’t have to call me sir.”

“You want me to.”

Oh, what a little shit you were. 

He reached down and undid your belt and jeans painfully slow, kissing your neck and biting along your ears the entire time. You were pretty sure by the time he got to actually touching you, you’d be done in one go. Well on his own head be it. 

Finally, god willing, he pulled your cock out and you gasped as it hit the night air. He slid down your stomach, placing nips as he went along, and stopped when he got to your erection, hovering just above it. 

“Please Arthur,” you pleaded, the first time you had ever done so, “please?”

He smirked, a dangerous looking act in the growing firelight, and wrapped his lips around you, sinking down as far as he could go. The back of your head hit the ground and you didn’t care at this point because your cock was throat deep in Arthur Morgan and you couldn’t honestly be assed to care about anything else.

He grabbed your balls and squeezed just so and you pushed your hips up into his mouth, causing him to moan around you. He wrapped a hand around your base and began stroking, pulling off for a moment to catch his breath.

“Are you gonna let me swallow you or not?” He murmured, flicking his eyes up at you. Your throat seemed to have gone dry so you just nodded stupidly as he sank back down, holding onto your hip with one hand and stroking you with the other.

You grabbed at the grass below you and tore it out as you came, moaning Arthur’s name into the darkness and finally settling back down, the feeling coming back to your limbs slowly. You were dimly aware of Arthur sliding back up your body kiss you again and you tasted yourself on his lips. 

“Can I..?” You gestured to him.

“I’m not even sure you can see straight right now,” he laughed.

You chuckled, laying your head back again and tangling a hand in his hair. 

“Get some food in me,” you said, “and let’s see how fast I make your vision disappear.”

Not the most clever of lines, but Arthur chuckled at you and made you fish anyway


	14. A New South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mars asked:  
> can you do a-uh arthur spanking the reader with a lot of “baby girl”’s and ass praising? i love ur writing
> 
> I'm so sorry I hope I did this justice! I am certainly not good at praising... more of a screeching person honestly...

Today you were acting up for no reason other than to work Arthur up. It was your favorite game these days but he’d been so busy lately that he rarely did anything about it anymore. There wasn’t much you could distract yourself with at camp either. Chores only took so long, you found yourself with more free time than you knew what to do with.

So when Arthur came back from the big train job with extra money for the camp and three rambunctious, tequila swinging fiends in tow, you felt the weight from your chest removed. He stalked over to you and smiled, wrapping an arm around your thick waist and yanking you close for a kiss. 

You almost forgot how much shit you’d given him over the past few weeks until he took your bottom lip between his teeth and mumbled against your lips. His voice was low and dangerous and you had to strain to hear him over the celebrations. 

“I got us somethin’ to commemorate the occasion,” he said, reaching into his saddlebag and pulling out a shiny pair of leather gloves. You looked down at them and swallowed. 

“What are those for?” you asked shakily. 

“I think you know what these are for, darlin’,” he said against your mouth, pulling you into a kiss. 

There weren’t a lot of places in camp to go for privacy, but there was a large tent beyond the outskirts that would do just fine, and everyone was already stupid drunk anyway. 

He led you to the tent and shut the flap, turning the lantern on as low as it would go.

“You’ve been an insufferable little degen as of late,” he announced as if you didn’t know, motioning for you to de-clothe your bottom half. You do so quickly. You knew Arthur would die for you, but right now he looked so menacing in the half-light, pulling his brand new leather gloves on as painstakingly slow as he could. 

“How many do you think you should have?” He beckoned you with a gloved finger and you kneeled in front of him. You honestly had no idea. You heart drummed in your chest, full of excitement and anticipation. He put the finger under your chin and tilted it up. “Speak.”

But speaking was something that non-frightened people did and right now you were as far off from that end of the wheel as you could be. He rubbed the leather across your bottom lip and smirked. 

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” he chuckled and lifted you up effortlessly, tossing you over his knee, “how about four? Sound good? Four’s a good number. Nice and even.”

Your elbows rested on his thigh and you tried to breath easy, in through the nose, out through the mouth. You jumped when the leather caressed your right ass cheek and Arthur sniffed in amusement. 

“Don’t be like that sweetheart,” he said as he squeezed, jiggling you around, “you knew what you were getting into. Let’s see if we can get you nice and red for me.” 

A whoosh and a loud crack, the leather smacked against your ass and you let out a cry, sucking air through your teeth and letting your head hang. God he was good. 

He slid along your ass with a gentle touch now, the cold leather was cleansing on the red welts you assumed were already starting to form.  
“That’s it,” his voice was no more than a whisper and he moved to your other cheek, petting it softly before- CRACK! 

“Oh, fuck, Arthur,” you strained, you couldn’t believe it only took you two hits before you were a soaking puddle in his lap. He stroked your cheeks, spreading them open and massaging them tenderly and damn you still had two to go. 

“I thought you were tougher than this, baby girl,” he said disappointedly, “with all that lip you’ve been throwin’ me this month. You didn’t think I’d mark up this pretty little ass of yours as well as I am?” 

“No, no sir,” you manage to get out. The sting on your ass is unreal, what the hell kind of gloves were those? The cool air that hits the welts is nice, but you can feel the ache in your bones and it’s so delicious. 

He taps your right ass cheek one more like he’s about to take a shot and his hand lands again on the already sensitive skin there. You manage to keep your cry to yourself this time, gripping his thigh tighter. 

“One more, baby,” he said soothingly, grabbing your cheeks again, “you’re doing so good.” 

His last smack sends waves of heat through you and if you didn’t have more self control you would have came right there in his lap. He eases you down onto your stomach and takes off his gloves, letting his cool hands run across your ass. He places kisses on each finger of your welts and rummages around in his bag for something.

“What a fine work of art your ass is,” he mused, leaning over you and pressing his erection against your cheeks, “if you’re good the rest of the evening I’ll consider rewarding you.” He slips a finger inside your ridiculously wet pussy and you inhale sharply. You push down onto it, eager for anything he’d give you at this point. 

He removes it and digs his nails into a welt. 

“You gotta be good for me, doll,” he cautions and suddenly he’s not behind you anymore. 

You’re shaking a little and it’s cold without him but soon you feel a cool salve against your cheeks and you sigh with relief. 

He rubs in the aloe mixture, it smells like aloe at least, quietly and hums at his work. 

“Got this from the general store in town,” he said, “bought this, a pair of leather gloves, and a bottle of whiskey. Wouldn’t believe the look on the clerk’s face.”


	15. Revenge is a Dish Best Eaten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 0bluewolf0 said to arthurs-wife:  
> May I request an Arthur x Male Reader where Arthur robs a house and finds male reader bloody and tied up, and after saving him finds out the house owners murdered readers fiancee and kidnapped him. Reader then joins Arthur and after a few years starts to feel love again for the handsome outlaw.

It was always hard for you to join the festivities. Usually you found the most contentedness sitting alone by your tent with a bottle of bourbon reading an old novel. Another pang; he had taught you to read. How long would you hold onto him? You pinched the bridge of your nose and looked up at the heavens. 

Across the camp was Arthur, nursing his bottle of whiskey. He lit a cigarette and looked over to where you were, throwing you a tentative smile. More importantly, how long would you keep Arthur waiting.

It seemed so long ago. He was the first thing you saw, one eye swollen shut and blood dripping down your face. Your wrists were rubbed raw, the hemp thread a permanent addition to the scabs on your hands and arms. Arthur had kneeled in front of you and lifted your chin.

“Who did this to you?” Were the first words he spoke to you.

He cut your bonds, not waiting for a response from you. When he was sure you were comfortable, he started rummaging through cabinets and drawers. 

“What are you doing?” you asked. He stopped immediately.

“Is this your house?”

“No,” you spat, “it’s those degenerate’s, they brought me here weeks ago.”

“So they won’t mind if some of their belongings disappear.”

“I guess not,” you said, wondering how he could be interested in robbing at a time like this. Almost as if he read your mind he stopped again, crossing the room and sitting down next to you. He brought a bottle out of his bag and handed it to you.

“Here,” he said softly, “this should take some of the pain away.” 

You took it all in one swig and tossed it on the floor, thanking him.   
“Do you know where they went?” Arthur asked.

It all hit you at once, you were so caught up in the elation of being rescued. As if on cue, you both heard the horses outside, raucous yelling out in the front yard. 

Arthur grabbed you and ducked behind the bed. 

“How many?” he whispered, taking out his gun. You screwed up your eyes and fought through the haze. 

“Three?” 

They burst through the front door and Arthur popped out, shooting them one by one, all right through the eye. 

“Where’d you learn how to shoot like that?” 

He snorted and pulled your arm around his shoulder. 

“Let’s get you out of here, kid.” 

He had patched you up that evening, tenderly bandaged the wounds around your wrists and ankles. He didn’t ask what they did to you and you thanked him for it. There was a silent understanding that you were automatically accepted into the group, a new outcast like the rest of them, scarred beyond recognition. 

Arthur had ridden out with you several days later to your old house where the rest of the gang had holed up. The door you had painted with Harry had been kicked in. The wallpaper you hated but gone with anyway because he said it reminded him of the house he grew up in was stained with beer, torn in many places. Arthur had lent you his gun, and you used it. 

You had never killed a man before and never imagined what it would be like. It gave you no relief. 

Arthur buried your lost love so you wouldn't have to. You stood on the hill in front of you house and looked across the land. You felt a strong hand on your shoulder. 

“I’m very sorry for your loss, friend,” he said. How could such a hard man be so tender? 

“We were to be married this spring,” you opened up, not knowing why, “have you ever been married, sir?” 

“No, never,” Arthur said shaking his head. You turned to look at him. The rough angle of his jaw was blurred by his beard, steely eyes made less so by the creases around him. All in all, a better view than the country. 

It had been three years since you buried your fiance and you were no closer to resolving that pain now than you were then. 

Arthur walked over to you and sat down.

“You skipping out on the fun tonight too, y/n?” 

You threw him a sly smile. It faded as he spoke again.

“You have to come out sometime.”

“You don’t know-” you blurted, how dare he try and speed your process?

“Her name was Eliza.” 

As quickly as your anger came, it left. You had never heard him speak of himself like this before. 

“And my son’s name was Isaac,” he continued, “and I couldn’t keep them safe. That was my fault.”

“I didn’t know,” you said. 

“I know you didn’t, that’s why I’m telling you,” Arthur said, shifting closer to you, “because you’re not the first person this has happened to and you certainly won’t be the last.”

He was right, of course. You chanced a look at him and regretted it almost immediately. Of course you were in love with him. How could you not be? 

You took his hand and started your new life, finally.


	16. Help a Brother Out - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> (Thank you for giving me an outlet for my thirst lmao. I only recently discovered your writing and it’s amazing) can I get Arthur x M!Reader doing the do in camp, reader trying to keep quiet and only after they’ve come, someone says something from outside the tent cause everyone heard them?

“We can’t, we can’t!” 

Arthur wasn’t having any of your bullshit tonight as he dragged you along behind him to the tent. 

“Someone will hear us,” you protested, albeit very weakly. 

“Ain’t no one gonna hear us,” he waved your sorry excuses away and pulled you close to him, kissing you fiercely, “besides, are you gonna say no to this?” 

You felt him on your thigh and no way you were saying no to that. 

One last look to make sure everyone was still drunk as hell and singing before you both disappeared into the tent and shut the flap. 

His hands were already under your shirt, kissing you sloppily and moaning into your mouth. You pushed him onto his back and he threw you a devious look as you crawled on top of him. Maybe one day you’d play dom but for now you were content with his hands grabbing your ass and bucking into his thigh. 

His nails dug into your flesh, making your shudder and grind against him harder. 

“You’re not even gonna wait until your pants are off, you heathen?” He chuckled, biting at your neck and raising his hips up to meet yours. 

“You were the one grabbing my ass all day, deviant,” you shot back.

“Oh, but the things I could do with that ass you got,” he growled, laying a solid smack on your ass for good measure, making you yelp, “I thought you wanted to be quiet, big shoots.” 

“I will, once you stop-” you were cut off with another moan as Arthur shifted his thigh and pushed it against your erection. 

“Once I stop what?” he said in your ear, “being the best goddamn thing you’ve ever had between your legs?”

He moved one hand to grab your hip and guided you around, making the sweat bead on your forehead. His own cock dug into yours and you both tried to kiss each other, succeeding only in bumping foreheads and breathing each other’s names into the now too-warm tent. 

“Oh God, Arthur-” you sounded his name like a trumpet call, far less worried about the noise now that you were balls deep in one of the best orgasms you ever had, Arthur coming beneath you in waves, his nails leaving scars in your side. 

You collapsed onto him, breathing heavily. You were both probably stuck together but that was an issue for future-you.

“You know-” before he could get another word out, tumultuous applause broke out from outside your tent. 

You sat up quickly and slapped him on the shoulder, the chest, anywhere you could reach. 

“I told you, you ass!” 

Your tent flap streaked open and there was Dutch, clapping heartily with the rest of the group.

“Bravo son,” he said, wiping away a fake tear, “I knew you had it in you.”

“Excellent performance, my boy,” Hosea nodded in the background. 

“You’re all a bunch of perverts,” Arthur laughed, yanking the flap from Dutch’s grip and closing it. 

Never again.

At least for another hour.


	17. A Test of Faith

“It sounds like they’re gone.”

Charles’ voice startled you in the quiet. You had been listening to the wind howling outside for so long you forgot any other noises existed. You shivered, didn’t think you’d need your coat for a quick trip but here you were.

“We’re not getting anywhere in this weather,” Charles said, crossing the room to the fireplace and taking some instruments out of his satchel, “let’s see if I can light a fire for us.”

It was getting dark quickly and the temperature was dropping. You sat on the musty bed and looked out the window for any movement. Charles cursed at the fire, or lack thereof. After a few minutes he turned to you, saw you fidgeting in the near dark. He pulled his coat off and made to put it around you.

“Here, you’re freezing,” he said gently, and you pushed it away.

“You’ll be cold,” you refused, “keep it on, I’ll be fine.”

Charles made a face at you and put his coat back on, moving back to the fire. You sighed and joined him.

“Here,” you reached out and grabbed the flint from him, “ah, this wood is wet, that’s why.”

You searched the cabin for something, anything to keep you warm, the icy air was threatening to penetrate your bones. Your eye caught a door, hanging from its hinges and you stalked over to it, kicking it off in one go.

“Y/n-” Charles had started, but was cut off by the crack of the blessedly dry wood. You curtseyed and broke the already decaying wood into smaller pieces.

As you sat back down, you piled the wood into the fireplace and Charles shook his head, sticking some kindling in there as well, brushing your hand. You convinced yourself it wasn’t intentional.

“How are you so warm,” you asked him, “and I’m over here freezing to death?”

“I have a coat on, you fool,” Charles chuckled at you, but there was no malice in his voice. You huffed and continued working in silence. Soon you both had a crackling fire and you cheered. Your first instinct was to hug him but you stopped yourself. You had it set in your mind that Charles was off limits, an being that was constantly just out of your reach, so much higher up than you.

“Why don’t we get some sleep?” he offered, gesturing at the bed.

“You want us both to…?” you started, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks.

“Nothing like that, y/n,” he said quickly, “just to keep warm. I doubt this fire will do much for us through the night.”

You thought about it for a moment. Sharing a bed with Charles was number three on your list of things to do before you died (number one was dance on a stage somewhere in Saint Denis, of course), but in this situation? You were certain he was only doing it out of survival, not because he wanted you.

“That will be acceptable, I suppose,” you finally said, quickly hopping into bed, even though it was cold too.

He seemed unsure of himself, approaching the bed as if it were a wild animal. You weren’t that scary were you? He crawled next to you and the pair of you lay there on your backs awkwardly staring at a darkening ceiling. Charles shifts and mutters to himself before lifting himself up a bit and pulling a worn blanket from under him. He spreads it over you.

“Here,” he said, “this should keep you a little warmer. And…” he cuts himself off, thinking before he talks again, “you can curl up in my coat with me, that way you don’t freeze to death in the night.”

He’s just being nice.

“Sure, Charles.”

You turn so your back is facing him and curl up, feeling his arm pull his coat around you as much as it can. He wraps you tight in his arms and fall asleep almost immediately, the world right for once.

The sun blinds you as you wake up. You’re still wrapped up in the blanket but Charles is gone. You quickly sit up and look around but he’s still right next to you, just on his back.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, sitting up on his elbows.

“Fine,” you respond, “you?”

“Didn’t sleep much.”

“Too cold?”

“No.”

Why was this man so hard to talk to? Why couldn’t you form a sentence longer than three words?

“Can I ask you something, y/n?”

Your breath caught and you nodded.

“Why have you been ignoring me these past few days?”

Ah. You didn’t think he cared whether or not you talked to him.

“I don’t know,” you said, knowing why you had been ignoring him, “I’ve just had a lot on my mind is all.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” he asked, infuriatingly calm and helpful.

“No, can we just,” you sighed and hopped out of bed, “can we just leave and get back to where it ain’t cold?”

He looked down at his hands and nodded.

It was a quiet ride back to camp and it was a quiet few days. You wanted nothing more than to barge into Charles’ tent and demand to know who had given him permission to see right through you the way he did, make your heart skip a beat every time he smiled at you. And finally you did.

He was sitting in a clearing next to camp, looking up at the stars. When he saw you approach, he stood up immediately as if he were at your beck and call.

“Charles,” you started timidly, “I wanted to come thank you properly, for keeping me warm that night.”

“Of course,” he nodded, his deep brown eyes pressing into yours, “always.”

“I don’t know how to talk to you,” you blurted out, “I don’t know what to say. Would you have done what you did the other night for anyone?” The corner of Charles’ mouth turned up.

“Maybe not for Uncle,” he said, forcing you to giggle, “but I see your point. I think I can elaborate.”

He didn’t speak for a few moments, looking up at the sky again. You could see the stars reflected in his eyes and part of you wished you could just stay in limbo like this. When he spoke again, his voice was level and clear.

“I’ve been alone for a very long time, y/n,” he began, sliding a hand in yours, “I didn’t think I’d find someone to share my journey with. But the other night when you let me hold you to sleep, laying there with you made me realize, I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to spend my nights protecting you from the cold, to spend my days with you.”

The smile grew slowly on your face and he closed the distance between you.

“So, y/n,” he said, inches away from your lips, “will you stop ignoring me now?”

You grinned, pressing your lips together finally.


	18. A New Future Imagined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Is there any way you could do something with a future female reader? Maybe she gets gets sent back in time or she brings Arthur to the future 🤷♀️ you're choice fam.
> 
> gee golly shit do i like time travel

You had found a time in your busy schedule to take a moment to yourself. Work and school, your family, that guy who kept pestering you at the library, it all melted away for a few moments as you lay out in the middle of the greenway. The sun shone down on you happily and you felt the grass beneath your legs. 

Truly though, the universe couldn’t afford to bring you a few moments peace. The air to your left suddenly warped like old wood and through it came a horse, a man riding it as fast as he could. They streaked across the greenway and you stood up slowly, following them intently. The man seemed to realize he wasn’t where he ought to be and stopped, you could hear his deep voice echo through the field. 

You shoved your glasses into your hair and saw him spin around, spotting you and waving an arm. He called at you faintly and you raised an arm to meet him, starting towards him. 

You met in the middle and saw the man up close. He looked disheveled and extremely out of place. 

“S’cuse me miss,” he greeted in an accent you didn’t recognize, “can you uh, tell me where we are?” 

“We’re in Florida,” you said slowly, “I take it from that rip in space time back there that you’re not where you thought you were?” 

“Where’s Florida?” 

“Southern-most state,” you replied. 

“I was just in Lemoyne,” he muttered, wiping his brow and looking around again.

“Lemoyne?” you scoffed, “what are you from the 1800s?”

“Is this not the 1800s?”

“Florida hasn’t been called Lemoyne since 1912,” you said, putting a hand on your hip.

“What year is it now?” he asked, surely he wasn’t looking forward to the answer.

“2019, my friend.”

“Well ain’t that just a damper on my day.”

You looked back at your car then to the man again.

“Can I bring you back to town with me?” you asked, “I’m not sure what you can do about your horse though.” 

“Well where’s yours?”

Oh boy. 

“I have my own ride,” you tried to explain, “if we want to get anywhere we’ll have to take it.”

The man considered before jumping down and smacking his horse on the rear and sending her away. 

“She’ll find me again,” he assured you, “let’s get to this ride of yours.”

You led him back to your car and opened the door for him. He hesitated a moment, walking around the car and taking it all in.

“This a stagecoach?” he asked. 

“Sort of,” you cocked your head, “just without the horses. And the whips. Anyway, come on, get in.” 

He clambered in and shut the door, waiting for you to get in and start the engine. He put out his hands instinctively when it roared to life and you put yours on his knee. You both looked at it for a moment before settling back down.

“Sorry,” you said, “my name is y/n.”

“Arthur.” 

You shook hands. The engine puttered away and you sat there for a moment. 

“I’m not even sure where to take you man,” you looked at him.

“Well,” he thought for a moment, “I just jumped 120 years ahead of my time and there’s nothing saying I won’t get ripped back in an instant. Show me what the future of civilization looks like. Show me it’s worth it.” 

You shrug and start driving away, bumping down the road until you hit asphalt. Arthur is stock still in his seat, holding onto the door. 

“The ‘oh, shit’ bar is right there,” you say.

“The what?” 

You motion to the handle above his door and he grabs it. 

“Mind if I put on some music?” you ask. 

“I’m curious to see how anything works right now,” he laughs, “go on, show me.” 

At the red light you take out your phone and pull up Spotify, plugging your aux cord in and putting on some music. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0sEclM9JRw

You were pretty out in the sticks but Arthur watched your every movement, taking your phone and inspecting every inch of it. He was full of questions and kept asking you how the car worked, how the streetlights worked, how was the music coming from your phone to the car? 

You eventually made your way into civilization and Arthur was glued to the window. 

“What’s that place?” 

You looked and he was pointing to the mall.

“It’s like a general goods store,” you explained, “but for shit you don’t need.”

“Can we go?” 

“Sure, but we’re getting you changed.” 

He looked down at himself.

“What for?” 

The mall wasn’t as crowded as usual which was good. You told him to leave the hat in the car and follow you. 

He really was a fish out of water. You entered a department store and he looked around in awe.

“How’s it so cold in here?” he asked. 

“AC,” you said and stopped yourself, “air conditioning. Blows cold air through those vents.” 

You pointed and he looked.

“I’ll be damned.” 

Shopping was far too fun. You spent too much time dressing him in different outfits and finally settling on a pair of jeans with a black button up shirt. 

“You clean up nicely,” you said, eyes lingering too long on his butt, “want to get your hair done?” 

“You don’t like it?” he said, turning around to face you.

 

“Personally I like the long hair,” you said, motioning for him to come with you, “I just didn’t know if you were, like, able to cut it.” 

“We can’t,” he said sadly, shaking his head, “scissors weren’t around in 1899.” 

You narrowed your eyes and looked at him. He smirked and you shoved him with a shoulder. 

Clothes acquired you set off again, keeping an eye out for things you thought Arthur would like. Your afternoon adventure with a cowboy was proving to be one of the most interesting times in your life.

“Oh, I have to take you here!” you turned quickly into a parking lot and found a space, “sorry, I’ll cool it with the swerving.” 

“I have no idea what you just said,” Arthur grumbled, exiting the car and following you, “what is this place?” 

“This is Publix,” you motioned and the doors opened automatically, fascinating Arthur to no end, “best grocery store on earth.” 

Arthur marvelled at the amount of produce, fresh meat, liquor selection. 

“What’s this stuff over here?” he motioned to the section of organic items. 

“Oh we’re doing this thing now where everything has to be organic,” you said, picking up a bundle of bok choy, “we got tired of all the chemicals.” 

“There weren’t no chemicals back in my day.”

“Oh you’re right,” you agreed, “but since your time, we started mass producing, throwing chemicals in our food and it scared us so now we’re back to doing things your way. Full circle.”

“I guess.”

“Come on, I’ll get you a Pub sub.”

“A what?”

You hoped you weren’t overloading the man with everything as you watched him try and eat the entire chicken tender sub, but he looked so amazed at how one person could eat such a big portion. 

“Tastes funny,” he said, chewing thoughtfully, “is that the chemicals?” 

“No I got you the organic kind,” you smirked.

He chuckled but ate the whole sandwich anyway. 

You were sitting on your car’s hood outside of a CVS after buying Arthur a pack of cigarettes that he was thoroughly enjoying. 

“What’d you say these were?” he asked, inspecting the pack.

“Cowboy killers,” you said. 

“How about that.” 

He started coughing, a massive fit that ended with some blood on the ground. You patted his back, concerned, but he waved you off.

“I’m afraid I’m not long for this world, darlin’,” he said, “although I do find it amusing that the creator thought to show me the future of this damn world before I die.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked.

“I have tuberculosis,” he said mournfully, “pretty bad case, the doc told me.”

“Do you remember what year it is?” you asked, getting up to walk across the street, “come on, I have an idea.”

The clinic was also thankfully empty, it seemed like the universe picked today for you to save this handsome cowboy’s life. 

“Hi,” you said, approaching the counter, “this is my brother and he’s not on my insurance but I think he has TB. Can you help?” 

“Tuberculosis?” the nurse said, deadpan. 

“Yeap.” 

“Insurance?” 

“Can you just put it on my tab?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you huffed, “out of pocket it is.” 

The wait wasn’t long and you two watched Jurassic Park. He had so many questions.

“You know you’re a pretty forward thinker for someone from your time,” you finally said, “it’s not a bad thing, I’m just surprised.” 

“The gang I run with tries to be as accepting as possible,” he said, “but things aren’t looking too good for the minorities. Does it get better?”

You wish you could tell him different.

“I’m sure in another 120 years it’ll be better.”

“Mr. Morgan?” 

The stone faced doctor called you back and you followed her to the room. 

“Nurse says you have TB, huh?” 

As a response, Arthur coughed his entire lung out. 

“Okay,” the doctor said, pulling a cover over her face and handing you one, “I’m going to do a TB skin test on you and see what it does.”

She put a small needle in his forearm and he winced.

“Come back in 24 hours to see the results and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“24 hours?” 

“That’s how long the test takes to show if there’s TB in your system.” 

“In the meantime,” she said, pulling out a pad, “I’m going to give you this prescription for Isonaizid and rifapentine, you’ll take each one once a week for three months. Sound good?” 

He nodded and took the paper, and you led him out of the room. Out in the waiting room, you pointed to your car motioned him to wait by it.

 

“Can you send me the bill please?” you asked the nurse, “here, I’ll give you my address.” 

Back at the car Arthur shook his head as you approached.

“It’s that easy?”

“Not always,” you said, starting the car and heading to the pharmacy, “I think they just took pity on you.” 

Arthur near fainted when the clerk asked for $300 for the drugs.

“I’ll just put it on my credit card,” you said, pulling it out and swiping. 

“Do I even want to know?” 

“Not unless you want to stay in the future for the next two weeks while I explain it.”

“Can we go back to that field now?” he asked back in the car, “as much fun as this was I miss the open space. It’s too crowded here.” 

You nodded and headed back, taking the scenic route and passing trees, farms, dilapidated old houses held up more with charm than brick. 

“So you all can cure all diseases like that now?” he asked. 

“No, there’s still stuff like cancer, mental illnesses, auto-immune disorders,” you listed, “that we just kind of have to live with. We’re also still pretty horrible to black people and women and disabled folks. And we’re still at war with pretty much everyone.” 

“You’ve had 120 years for christ’s sake,” Arthur laughed, “what the hell y’all been doing?”

“Making money, I guess.” 

You turned off your car at the field and got out, fully appreciating the crisp air and open sky, even moreso now. 

“So what do you think,” you asked, “is all this civilization worth the hype?” 

He looked at you sadly and down at the antibiotics in his hand. 

“Do you think it’s worth it?” he retorted. 

You didn’t know. 

The air behind you ripped again and Arthur’s horse trotted up. He put the antibiotics in his bag and held out a hand. 

“Thank you for saving my life, y/n.” 

“Weren’t nothin’,” you tried and he gave you a look. “Take care of yourself, Arthur.” 

He nodded at you and mounted his horse, trotting off to the rip and looking back at you. He raised an arm and you waved back before he disappeared completely. He was gone. 

You weren’t sure why but you spend a good amount of time crying in your car after that. The sight of his hat, still on the floorboard, made you laugh and you put it on.

Fastest cowboy in Florida.


	19. Outlaws From the West - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna asked: hiya! love your you think you could do a reader x Sean Fluff as reader saves Sean from bounty hunters? (Fluff with a capital F please!)
> 
> (sorry this is so short and probably not what you wanted, but this is probably the first part in a series since you've asked for multiple sean things)

The fish on your fork mocked you, the unsalted bastard flaking in your teeth quicker than you could taste it. It had been a good plan, sloppy execution.

It was time for a new job, you’d been dry for weeks, trying to survive on canned peaches and whatever garbage fish you just caught. The bushes rustled behind you and you turned, gun already out. The footsteps came closer, closer until-

A blur of limbs and bright hair slammed into you, sending you backwards almost in your tent. You found yourself on your back, staring into green eyes that looked almost as surprised as you.

“How ya doin’, love?”

“Get offa me!”

You pushed him off and stood up, aiming your gun at him. He put his hands up, kneeling and looking up at you.

“Don’t mean you no harm,” he assured, looking back at the forest.

“Where’s the fire?” you asked, flicking your gun back to the woods.

“Just being chased by some friendly bounty hunters is all,” he said, “I’m sure you know what that’s like.”

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

He tilted his head at you, throwing you an incredulous look. You roll your eyes.

“Fine,” you scoff, “what did you do?”

“Robbed a bank,” he said proudly, then fell a little, “well, tried to rob a bank, it’s difficult to do as a one man show.”

You heard the shouts of bounty hunters in the distance and pondered for a moment.

“Get in the tent,” you said, shoving him in and covering him with a blanket and taking your own shirt off.

The bounty hunters crashed through the brush and stopped next to your camp, where you flew out of the tent, covering your chest with your shirt and pointing behind you.

“Excuse me miss,” one of them said, “did you see a red hair-”

“He ran off that way, the bastard!” you cried, pointing down the road, “tried to have his way with me and ran off when he heard you!”

The bounty hunters ran off down the road after tipping their hats. When they could no longer be heard, you pulled your shirt on.

“You can come on out now,” you said, “pulling back on the tent flap, “you officially owe me.”

“That was brilliant, miss,” he said, shoving the blanket off and extending a hand, “a true work of art, you are. The name’s Sean.”

“Y/n,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Any favor at all,” he continued, sitting in front of your fire and lighting a cigarette, “just name it.”

“I do need help with a bank job,” you mused, sitting next to him.

“A bank job?” His eyes lit up, “I’ll have you know miss, I’m the best bank robber in the state!”

“Didn’t you just say you botched one?”

“Well that was different,” he waved your concerns away, “didn’t have my team. Gotta have my team with me, then I’m the best on the team.”

“I see,” you said, nodding wisely and you couldn’t help but smile at him, “so where is your team then?”

“Just up the ways there,” he pointed somewhere in front of you, “whole camp of people. If you’d like I can take you back there, just gotta help us with the job and give a cut to the group.”

You thought for a moment. You had been a one-woman show for as long as you could remember. The way things were going these days though… seemed the law was coming down on you extra hard. For all the trouble you just gave your new friend, it used to be one person could do a bank job by themselves. Wasn’t the case anymore.

“Well I’ll give you some time to think about it anyway,” he said after you had been quiet for too long, leaning back and settling his feet on a rock near the fire.

“Oh you’re just gonna set up shop here then?” you asked with a huff.

“Well,” he started, looking at you with those eyes, “it’s too far back to my camp now, isn’t it?”

You thought about sending him on your way, you did, but that smile he gave you made it look as though the sun had risen early.


	20. The Aftermath of Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omg this is hot asaf asked: This is. Beautiful. I have a request :D! Could you write maybe a sad reader (idk why) and Arthur staying at the hotel in Valentine? Like something upsets the reader and Arthur scoops her up into his lap and cradles and rocks her to sleep because damn Mr. Morgan i’d let him hold me all day long.

It was your fourth shot. Usually, by shot two, you’d be over your anger and back on your horse. Not this time. 

This time it had cut you to the core. Comments about yourself and your mistakes rolled off your back like water on a duck. Comments about your father garnered an extra shot or two at the bar you thought. 

Micah had barely ducked fast enough to miss the frying pan aimed at his head a few hours earlier before you stormed off to Valentine. Insinuations that your father was any less of a man than he actually was, was tantamount to treason in your book. 

You felt a hand clap on your shoulder and you were drunk enough that it almost sent you flying out of your chair. 

“Arthur,” you slurred. 

He held up two fingers and the bartender scurried about making you shots.

“Y/n,” he replied. 

You took your respective shots and you lit a cigarette. 

“You can’t get that man get to you,” he finally said.

“Oh don’t tell me what to do, Arthur,” you grumbled. 

“I ain’t tellin’ you what to do,” he held his broad hands up, “just giving you a little advice. He ain’t worth it.” 

“I know,” you mumbled into your cigarette. 

“What’d he say anyway?” Arthur asked, “that pan came at him at a decent velocity.” 

“He said my dad abandoned me,” you sighed, “and hinted that he didn’t die an honorable death. That he raped the natives and killed cows. Or maybe the other way around.” 

“You know that ain’t true.”

“I know it ain’t true,” you said, “but it’s still a cruel thing to say.” 

Arthur nodded and stood up, picking you up by the shoulders. 

“Come on, girl,” he said, moving you towards the door, “let’s get you back to camp.” 

You wrenched yourself free from his grip and spat.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere near that fool,” you said, “you’ll have to hogtie me.”

“Sounds fun,” he admitted, taking you by the hand again and leading you out, “but maybe when you’re not so inebriated.”

“What?”

“Nothin’.” 

Luckily the hotel was just across the street. You two entered and paid the fee and Arthur led you upstairs. 

“Arthur I’m gonna throw up,” you mumbled.

“Well let me get the window open,” he said, shutting the door and crossing the room to open it.

“No I mean,” you sat on the bed and put your face in your hands, “I just miss him so much.” 

He stopped and turned to you, a pained look on his face. Arthur sat on the bed next to you and put a hand on your knee.

“I wish he were here to tell me what to do sometimes,” you said, wiping away a tear, “it hurts so bad sometimes.”

“I know how you feel,” Arthur said. You looked at him and thought about what pain this man had been through. You rested your head on his shoulder. 

“I’m tired, Arthur,” you said, closing your eyes, “I just want to sleep forever.” 

“Well I don’t know about the forever part,” he said, scooping you up and leaning back against the headboard with you, “but I can help you with tonight.” 

He rested his head on yours and cradled your neck with his broad arm, his other resting across your legs. You played with his fingers and closed your eyes. 

“Get some rest, darlin’,” he murmured, “it’ll all look better in the morning.” 

And it did.


	21. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Can I request some smut of young Arthur x f reader where they lose their virginity to each other?

“I’m nervous,” you said for the thousandth time.

“They’ll love you.”

You stood outside the door of Arthur’s parents’ house somewhere in the woods of New Elizabeth. You had been together for months and were just now meeting them. Arthur took your hands in his and kissed your fingers one by one. You were supposed to be out celebrating your 22nd birthday but you were here meeting the love of your life’s parents for the first time and hyperventilating.   
“Let’s just get this over with,” you said smiling.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart,” he chuckled, opening the door and guiding you inside.

He called for his mother and father and motioned for you to sit down at the dining room table. The house was nice, two stories and filled with fine furniture. You had to wonder why they chose to live out here in the middle of nowhere with all these furnishings. Arthur wandered into the kitchen and left you looking around awkwardly.

“Damn, they’re out,” he said, coming back with a note in his hand. 

“Oh, no,” you said convincingly. 

“They popped into town for a bit, says they’ll be a couple hours,” he sighed and plopped himself at the table next to you.

“So I guess we’ll just wait here for them,” you said, putting your chin in your hands and gave him a sideways glance.

He shot you a smile and whisked you out of your seat, carrying you bridal style down the hall and to his old room, giggling and kicking your feet the entire time. 

His bed was soft and you sank into it as he settled on top of you, kissing you deeply and weaving a hand in your hair. You hiked up a leg to wrap around his, pulling his hips into yours and making him moan into your mouth.

“Awfully forward today, darlin’,” he said smiling, “what’s gotten into you?” 

“You, if I’m lucky,” you laughed, sliding a hand down his stomach and pulling his shirt open. He ran his own up yours, squeezing a breast and causing you to buck your heat into him. 

There seemed to be no end to your passion, grabbing every inch of each other you could. He fumbled at your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip and tilting your chin up with his nose to nibble at your neck. You reached down and circled your fingers around what you could and took your lips to his ear.

“I’m ready, Arthur,” you breathed. He stopped kissing you for a second to look you straight in the eyes. 

“Are you sure, y/n?” He asked, you could feel him pressing against you but you knew that he would stop the second you asked. He was the one.

You pulled him down and devoured his lips, pulling your skirt down clumsily. It was all so frightening and hilarious to you, the pair of you unsure of what you were supposed to do, how everything was supposed to feel and work. 

You took both hands to undo his belt shakily, drawing him out and squeezing again. He wrapped his hand around yours and began stroking slowly, placing soft kisses all over your lips. You felt him grow and reached down with your other hand to rub at yourself, starting to lose control of your breathing. 

Just when you thought you would lose it right there he took control and lined himself up with you, giving you one last look before he pushed forward, his head sliding into you slowly. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, trying to relax and let him fully inside you. He pressed a hand on the mattress next to your head and pushed in further.

Your fingers dug into his hips and pulled him into you until he was fully buried and you both stopped for a moment, catching your breath. He stroked your cheek with his hand.

“How are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Never been better,” you smiled and kissed him again. 

He started to move now, short shallow thrusts that made your breath hitch and stomach light. You wrapped your legs around his, pulling him as close to you as you could. Your arms felt silly so you put your hands on his chest, stroking it and caressing his neck. He took your hand and guided it to your clit. He was most certainly the one. 

You tried to time your movements to his thrusts but he was so distracting, the sun gleaming through his hair, the way his stomach muscles clenched when he snapped his hips up into you. 

“Arthur,” you breathed.

“Me too, baby girl, keep going.” 

You tensed up around him and he fell to his elbows, burying his face in your hair and you came hard, pulling your hand away and grabbing his ass as he pushed into you deep. He cried your name out as he came and you almost cried.

You both lay there for a moment, savoring the warmness pouring over your bodies, or maybe it was the setting sun. He finally pushed himself up and looked at you, smile widening on his face. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

The front door slammed and you heard Arthur’s mother call.

What a great time to meet them.


	22. Help a Brother Out - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> (Sorry I’m sending so many prompts, I know I just sent a request a few hours ago D: maybe this could be continuation post doing the do or whatever Idk) how about M!Reader finding out Arthur has been writing about drawing him in his journal?

People were still applauding you. It’d be getting old if it weren’t for the fact that Arthur still bowed when they did, then came over to you and whispered in your ear “we’ll give them something to clap about later”. 

You hadn’t yet. It wasn’t for lack of trying, things had been crazy around camp and it seemed that people were relying more and more on Arthur to do it. That’s not to say you were just sitting on your hands the whole time. You were now the go-to errand boy for whenever someone needed anything in Valentine. You also tidied up. And skinned the deer that everyone except Arthur brought because Arthur skinned his own deer. 

A little nagging part of your brain kept saying that Arthur was avoiding you, that he was looking for things to do so he wouldn’t have to deal with you. He was always either doing someone’s dirty work or writing in his journal. 

You didn’t want to command his attention. Better to let him come to you, right? 

Taking your own advice, you approached his tent and waved. He was sitting on his bed, writing something. You smiled at him. 

“Everything alright, Arthur?” you asked. 

“Sure,” he replied, looking up at you. You could have sworn his eyes softened. “Can I do something fo-” 

He stopped and you both turned to the front of the camp as someone, Bill?, yelled about needing help in Valentine immediately. Arthur looked at you apologetically and threw his journal down, rushing to his horse, mounting up, and taking off. 

One day you’d get to talk to him again. 

You plopped down on his bed and jumped up immediately, you had sat on his journal. You picked it up and made to set it on his table before something caught your eye. 

On the page that was open was a sketch of you. Unmistakable, those were your boots, your tattered jeans. He had sketched you carrying bags of potatoes from the front of camp to Pearson’s wagon, something you did specifically so he would notice you. You looked at the other page where there was writing. 

“Saw y/n again today, he seems to have taken the job of potato-lugger seriously, as he’s the only one who does it now. Wreaking havoc on my nerves, boy needs to get a tan and some meat on his bones, but otherwise I can’t find anything wrong with him. He’ll get me in trouble sooner or later, I just know it.” 

You laughed to yourself, so it had actually worked. You turned a page.

“The boy is getting to me. He is testing my resolve. I think he’s doing it on purpose. Sure, I’d love to drag him out by a tree and be done with it, but there’s something more there. I’ll sleep on it, maybe these feelings will piss themselves out in the morning.”

On the next page there was another sketch of you, this time of your face, on its side, eyes closed.

“I’m in trouble.”

You couldn’t stop the stupid tears from forming any more than you could stop yourself from going to the next page. 

“May have embarrassed the poor kid tonight, got too full of myself and drug him to a tent and forced him to be as loud as he possibly could. Now the whole camp has their eye on him. Hope he’s got thicker skin than he lets on. Falling harder for him than I thought I would. I knew he would be trouble.” 

“Y/n?” 

You looked up and slammed his journal shut but it was too late. 

“Arthur I’m sorry,” you said quickly, standing up to face him, “you threw it aside and I saw your sketch and I couldn’t help myself-”

“Easy, boy,” he said with a small smile, putting a hand on your shoulder, “I ain’t mad, just a little flustered is all.”

You cocked your head. 

“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “sketches just ain’t that good is all.”

Incredible.

“Arthur,” you muttered, “these are amazing, you did this from sight?” He nodded. “They’re truly astounding.

“You’re too kind.” 

You both sat down on his bed again.

“What did Bill want?” you asked.

“Oh he just got his horse caught in some brambles, the fool,” Arthur waved. 

Of course now that the two of you had some time, you couldn’t say anything. 

“Did you want-”

“Do you-”

You both stopped and laughed and Arthur motioned for you to continue.

“Did you want to take a ride somewhere?” you asked. 

“Where to?” 

“Let’s head to Bard’s crossing,” you said, “there’s a little outlet there that we can camp at for the night.” 

“Sure,” he said, and you both stood up. 

You had a lot to talk about.


	23. Outlaws From the West - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna asked: hey! love your work. Could you do a reader x Sean fluff and smut (sean on top) in the snowy area? Sean is underappreciated tbh

The trees roared above you outside, you tried not to look at them but you were transfixed. You finally tore your eyes away to look at Sean, who was trying to light a fire in the old fireplace. The cabin looked pretty lived in, but whoever lived here wasn’t coming back anytime soon with the weather. 

“Need some help there, big man?” you asked, crossing your arms. He turned around and pointed right at you.

“You should be nicer to me you know,” he said, turning back around and striking the flint again, “you’re a thousand dollars richer now because of me.” 

You rolled your eyes but agreed silently. He did fulfill that promise. Did that mean he was free to go? You hoped not, in the past few weeks you had become mildly attached to the little fire ant. You had grown accustomed to his stupid little smile he threw at you when he thought he said something funny. 

Pretty soon a fire was crackling and the pair of you sat on a blanket he had unfolded next to the fire. 

“Do you always keep a large blanket with you on bank jobs?” you asked.

“Only when I think there’s the remote chance I’ll be stuck with a pretty girl in the cold.” 

You blushed but exaggeratedly looked the other way. 

“Oh come on love,” he laughed, putting an arm around you, “don’t be like that.” 

“Don’t be like what?” you shot, turning your head quickly to look at him, but realizing he was inches from your face. You looked down at his lips, already parted and waiting for you. 

Without thinking you pushed forward, crashing your mouths together and feeling his arms wrap around you instantly. He pulled you down on top of him and you instinctively moved off to his side a bit. He was so little you were afraid you’d crush him with the weight of your breasts alone. 

“Get back here,” he growled, pulling you back on top of him and grabbing your ass. You took in a breath, good lord if you had known he was this forward you’d have done this a long time ago. 

He kissed you wildly, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as he could. You pulled away a moment to catch your breath and he continued kissing wherever he could reach. 

“Go easy on me Sean,” you chuckled, “it’s been so long.” He hummed at you.

“Alright darlin’,” he said, turning you to your side and sildling up behind you, his cock pressed against your ass, “you just lie there and look pretty, I’ll do all the work.” 

Before you could say anything he undid your jeans, reaching a hand down and rubbing at your clit. You reached back and grabbed his hip, pulling him closer to you. It was difficult reaching the front of his pants from this angle but you managed to do so.

“You’re pretty feisty yourself there,” he laughed but stopped, pressing his forehead against your neck. 

“I thought you said you was doing all the work then?” you breathed. 

You both struggled out of your pants, always a hilarious situation, but got right back into the swing of things when Sean lifted your leg up deftly with one arm and pressed his erection against your heat, sliding it slowly along your clit and opening. 

“Oh I would love to take my time with you,” he said in your ear, making you turn towards him, “make you come a thousand times and watch you collapse into a puddle around me.” 

You groaned and tried to twist your head around to kiss him but it proved difficult. He entered you steadily, letting out a hiss as he buried himself completely and digging his fingers into your thigh. 

“This is hard,” he finally said, “you feel so good, y/n.” 

“Well you better keep goin’ for me you little bastard,” you said, slapping his leg and pushing your ass against him. You think that just made it worse. 

He started moving, slowly at first and then quicker, angling you so that he hit deep. You were at the breaking point before he put your leg down and reached around your hip to circle your clit again and you were done. Thankfully there was no one around for miles to hear Sean’s name fly from your mouth as loud as it would go and you thought you heard him chuckle behind you. 

He rolled you over on your stomach and pressed your legs together, straddling you with knees on either side and grabbing your ass. He started in again, this time snapping his hips up quickly and if you had anything left in you it wasn’t coming out. You banged the floor and grabbed at the blanket, sure you’d rip it if he kept on anymore. 

“Oh, lord,” he finally said, leaning forward a bit and putting a hand on your back. He stopped and the pair of you just lay there in front of the fire, sweating and catching your breath. 

“That enough work for you, darlin’?” he asked, rolling off of you and tossing your pants. 

“That’s enough work for the next several times,” you laughed, turning your head to look at him in the afterglow. 

“Can I get that in writing?” 

“Don’t push your luck.” 

Fully clothed again, you lay side by side watching the fire, Sean’s arm around you. 

“Do you mean it?” he asked quietly, “there will be a next time?” 

“Of course I do, Sean,” you chuckled, stroking his thigh, “what kind of girl do you take me for?” 

“A lovely one.”

The warmth in the cabin that night didn’t have anything to do with the fire.


	24. The Gilded Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Would it be ok if I requested #12(fluff) on the sentence started with Arthur plz! Thank you!

“He’s so pretty I think I’m gonna faint!”

You turned to see what Marie was talking about and saw almost instantly. A group of men across the courtyard and one was standing out in particular.

He was dressed in a fine suit, his hair shaved on the sides and the length on top slicked back. His beard was neatly kept but he kept playing with it, it must not have been this short in a long time. He looked over at you, your group, over the top of his whiskey glass, one hand in his pocket.

The smile he gave you should not be legal but he did it anyway. Your group took a collective intake of breath and you could feel the lot of you melt where you stood.

“I’m going to talk to him!” Marie said.

“He was looking at me!” cried Valerie.

“You’re both wrong, he was obviously smiling at me,” huffed Norma.

“Shh! He’s coming over!”

Indeed the finely dressed man had excused himself from the conversation and was almost sauntering towards your group. He stopped and your gaggle stared intently, fanning themselves and putting their best assets forward.

“S’cuse me miss,” he drawled and you all fainted again, “may I steal you away from these au courant ladies for a moment?”

He held out a hand to you and suddenly you felt three sets of burning eyes on your back.

“Of course, sir,” you curtseyed.

You took his hand and he led you away to the back of the garden where the largest of flowers bloomed among the well-tended greenhouses.

“Apologies for taking you away from your group, miss,” he said, “you looked like you need a break.”

“Was I that obvious, sir?” you twittered, placing a gloved hand over your chest.

“Please, call me Arthur.”

“Y/n.”

You chanced a look at him and he smiled.

“So what is it you do, Arthur?”

“I’m an adventurer of sorts.”

“Oh?” you asked. He helped you up the steps of the gazebo and you sat next to him, overlooking a large pond.

“Don’t spend a lot of time in one place,” he went on, “world’s too big for that.”

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” you conceded. You had lived in Saint Denis your whole life, never knew anything different.

“What about you?” he asked, “you enjoy Saint Denis?”

“It’s a proper town,” you said, tilting your head, “lots to do here. I thought about attending college to become an educator.”

“An educator?” Arthur repeated, looking impressed, “like at a University?”

“Yes,” you nodded, it was seldom you were able to speak with someone about your dreams that seemed to care, “I would love to move to a big city like New York or Chicago and teach children there.”

“What would you teach them about?” he asked.

“Oh everything,” you started, “space, geography, electricity, I’m not picky.”

You look down suddenly and realize you’ve been speaking for too long.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head, “I didn’t mean to dominate the conversation.”

“No need to apologize, y/n,” he said, “I think it’s interesting.”

“You do?” you asked, looking up. His eyes were piercing.

“Arthur!”

He tore his eyes away from you and looked back to the party. A man with a top hat was waving him over. He took your hand and kissed it.

“It was lovely to meet you Miss y/n,” he said, standing up, “perhaps our paths will cross again.”

You stood up and in a flash, he was gone.


	25. Country Pursuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> serendipitiousbutterfly asked:
> 
> Hi! If possible an ArthurxF!Reader where she's really good with horses and she disappears one say and Arthur asks around camp for where she went and someone says she went out to a field. Arthur finds her sitting in the middle of a herd of wild horses reading or something and she shows Arthur how to make them trust him and then Arthur sketches in his journal or something while she continues reading or something. The horses r my 2nd favorite part of the game. Thank you for considering this! 😊💜

You sat beneath a tree in the blessed shade, finally covered from the heat of the sun. It had taken you a minute and you were sweating like hell, but it was a beautiful tree. You cracked open the book Hosea had stolen for you and started in on it.   
You looked up an hour later and were surrounded by horses. 

There were about ten of them, brown, black and white dappled, tan as the mountains behind you. Most of them didn’t care that you were sitting there, tearing bits of grass up as close as 20 feet away. All your life you had been good with horses, you didn’t know why. Back home you had maybe 5 or 6 all tamed and able to stretch their legs on your 20 acre farm. 

You tried not to think about that anymore. 

“Y/n!” 

You looked up quickly and saw a figure trotting across the plains to you and the horses scattered. Damn it, you thought. You had been alone for some time, being around these magnificent animals made you feel a little more at home, a little less like an outcast. 

You stood up, taking one last look at the horses who hadn’t actually gone that far, and faced your new arrival.

“Arthur?” 

Arthur Morgan stopped his trotting and close the last hundred feet between you slowly.

“Couldn’t find you back at camp,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his hat, “Hosea said you came out here to read or something.” 

You held up your book. 

“He got me a new one,” you said, “wanted some alone time.”

“Sure.” 

He stopped for a moment and realized his mistake.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, “just wanted to make sure you were alright out here.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to be upset at all, Arthur had always struck you as genuine. He peered around you and caught sight of the horses. 

“A lot of them gathered there, aren’t there?” he asked. 

“You miss Boadicea, don’t you?” you said, looking at him tenderly. 

“She was a good horse,” he said.   
Arthur had lost his horse just prior to Blackwater and hadn’t settled on a new one. 

“Have you thought about the stable horses?” you asked, the pair of you walking steadily towards the herd. 

“Nah it doesn’t seem right,” he waved. 

“I can teach you how to tame one?” You hadn’t meant for it to be a question but you also didn’t want to assume he didn’t know how. 

“You know how?” he asked. 

“I should imagine,” you chuckled, “I been raised with horses my whole life. Which one out there speaks to you?” 

He stopped and placed his hands on his hips again. He pointed and you followed his line of sight to a Mustang, a large, Grullo Dun coat who seemed to be staring right back at you. 

“Her,” he said. 

“Let’s get her then.” 

About 30 feet away you stopped and held your hands out. 

“Just approach her slowly,” you instructed, “put your arms out and let her know you’re not gonna hurt her.” 

He threw a look at you and you nodded him forward. Arthur put a hand out and approached as delicately as he could. The horse threw its head up and snorted. 

“Easy, girl,” he crooned. 

He stepped forward again, the seconds dragging by as he inched up, spreading his arms and coaxing the horse forward. 

When he was five feet away, the horse calmed completely and nuzzled its nose into Arthur’s palm. 

He turned around to face you, a huge grin on his face. 

“There’s a good girl,” he muttered, stroking the horses face. He took his rope out and looped it around her neck, leading her back over to your tree. 

“Want to head back now?” he asked. 

“I’d like to finish my book.” 

“Mind some company?” 

You sat next to the tree and patted the spot next to you. He hitched his horse and sat down, pulling his journal out. 

“You did really well, Arthur,” you said after a while, “have you thought about a name?” 

He looked up from his sketch of his new horse and thought a moment.

“Artemis,” he declared, looking back down and sketching some more. 

They stayed until nightfall, the two of them taking their first ride on the Goddess of Hunt back to camp.


	26. The First Shall Be Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> themightygnome said to arthurs-wife:  
> HELLO ILOVEARTHURSOMUCH UGGGH and i SHOULDNT BE READING SMUT AT WORK BUT-anyway, can i request arthur x reader(female) of reader being a virgin and sweet arthur is trying to be all gentle but he's so horny he's just dying to pound the daylights out of her and begs her for permission to do so and lets out sexy moans and grunts while he begs AND THEN ACCIDENTALLY CUMS CUZ SHE FEELS AMAZING AND THEN apologetically asks for another round !! im sorry i rambled BUT THANKS I LOVE YOU

“Arthur what’s this for?”  
He was standing on your porch with a single flower, his long hair pushed back in an attempt to look “presentable”. You thought it was perfect untouched. 

“Just wanted to come say hello,” he said, holding the flower out. You took it, it was an orchid, bright white with a long stem. 

“Well come in,” you said, turning to go back inside, “sit down while I fetch a vase.” 

He took a seat and you went to the kitchen and began rummaging around for a vase to fill. 

“How was the ride here?” you called, “I heard it was supposed to rain up where you are.” 

“Naw,” he yelled back, “no rain.” 

You pulled a vase down and set the orchid in. It really was beautiful. When you turned around you saw Arthur in the doorway. You set the vase on the table and walked over to him as sexily as you could. It was always tough judging if he was attracted to you. Well, of course he was, he was dating you, wasn’t he? But still, was he off put that you were a virgin? If so, he hid it well. 

And here he was, two months later and bringing you flowers. Probably the most patient man you’d ever met. He twiddled with his belt and looked up at you, giving you the “big eyes”. How rude. 

“Arthur,” you started, bouncing on your toes towards him and pulling him to you by the waistband of his jeans, “how would you like to come upstairs with me?”

You could see the excitement in his eyes immediately but he straightened up and put his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. 

“Now I didn’t come here to take advantage of you, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your forehead. You responded by pressing your breasts into his stomach, forcing him to stare directly into your cleavage.

“But if you insist,” he said, tilting your chin up with a finger and kissing you lightly. Your chest felt light, you had kissed before but this was different. You were about to give yourself to this man completely. You certainly weren’t his first, look at him! You were lucky he even wanted you, as timid and unsure about yourself as you were. 

You found yourself upstairs in your room, bed made up nicely and tidied up spotless. You knew the life Arthur led and it seemed the polar opposite of yours. 

He approached you slowly and caressed your arm with the back of his hand. You untied your belt and pushed your dress from your shoulders, letting it fall and revealing a lacy corset with a frilly short underskirt. 

Arthur let out a long sigh and stared at you for a moment. 

“Not trying to take liberties here but,” he finally said, “did you get this for me?”

You nodded and turned around, placing your hands on the bed and bending over slightly. He took a couple steps and put both of his hands on your waist, his fingers wrapping almost entirely around your hips. He pressed himself against you and you could already feel his length along your backside. 

“While I am trying to be sexy here Arthur,” you chuckled, “I am going to need your help getting out of this.” 

He hummed and began at the top, unlacing it all the way down your back and letting it fall open, exposing your back completely. You stood up and held it to your chest, turning around to face him. With a deep breath, you let it fall to the floor. 

Arthur groaned and reached out to you, cupping a breast and kissing you again. He was breathing evenly through his nose, sliding his hands up and down your waist. You unbuttoned his shirt slowly and slid it off his shoulders, letting your hands cascade down his chest. He was so broad and strong but the way he held you and touched you was so gentle. 

He pushed you back onto the bed and graped the waist of your underskirt, pulling it down along your legs and letting it fall to the floor soundlessly. Here you were bare in front of him and he looked in awe. You still felt a blush along your body and crossed your knees slightly. 

“None of that now baby girl,” he said, pushing them back apart slightly and gliding his hands up your thighs, your hips, your stomach, up your breasts, every inch of you he could reach. You felt his already huge erection press into your leg and you beared up on it, eager to touch it with your bare flesh. 

Once his tongue was exploring your neck he reached down between your thighs and slipped a finger between your lips, gyrating a finger around your clit expertly. You inhaled sharply, you’d never done this to yourself let alone had anyone else do it. There was a buzzing in your legs and your toes curled, Arthur moved up to your lips and devoured them. 

“Are you ready for me?” Arthur asked against your mouth.

“Yes,” you breathed, “please.” 

His pants seemed to fly across the room and he was back between your legs again, lining himself up with you. 

“Wait,” you said, reaching a hand down and grabbing what you could of his erection, slowly stroking it a few times. You just wanted to feel it first, you had no idea why. You pushed his head against you and took a sharp intake of breath. How bad would it hurt? 

Once he was just barely inside he leaned over you with his arms on either side of your head, almost like he was trying to enclose you from the outside world with his body alone. It made you feel warm and safe. 

“I’ll try and be gentle,” he whispered, eyes on you and pushing in as softly as he could, keeping watch on your expression the entire time. 

Your breathing was as even as you could make it and it hurt some but not as much as you thought it would. When he was fully sheathed in you he let out a long sigh.

“Shit, y/n,” he mumbled, “god damn you feel amazing.” 

He pulled out some and slid back in, moaning against your neck and burying his face in your hair. You felt quite pleased with yourself for feeling so amazing and pushed your hips up to meet his as best as you could, eliciting another moan from him. 

He sped up, still keeping his relatively slow pace so as not to hurt you, breathing evenly through his nose again. 

“Can I-” he started, apparently unable to finish.

“What is it baby?” you said, grabbing onto his waist and pushing up, making him moan again.

“Let me show you what I’m good at.” 

You gulped and nodded, allowing him to take control. 

He sat up and placed a hand on each thigh, letting the top half of his body tower over you like a statue. You tried to reach up and grab his stomach but threw your head back and let your mouth fall open as he jerked his hips forward and slammed his entire length into you. 

It was unlike anything you’d ever felt and you were sure if by some horrible tragedy you happened to make love to anyone else it would never be this good. 

But in 10 seconds he stopped. He screwed his eyes shut and after a small jerk he straightened up again, looking at you almost apologetically.   
“Damn it, y/n, I’m sorry,” he said.

“What for, Arthur?” you sat up on your elbows and looked up at him.

“I might have, uh…” he looked down at himself and your eyes widened, “I’m sorry, sweetheart you just felt so good and I-”

“Hush,” you said, a big smug grin on your face, “how long until you can go again?”

“Not for a while, I’m afraid,” he said, pulling out of you and kneeling between your legs, “but no one ever accused me of not taking care of my lady.” 

He reached down once more and pushed three fingers inside you, flicking your clit with his tongue. 

“Oh god, Arthur,” you moaned, shoving your fingers through his hair and bucking your hips up. 

Arthur fucked you gently with his fingers and sucked on you lightly, reaching his arm underneath you to grab your ass and you looked down and he looked up at you with those blue eyes and his face buried between your thick legs and damn it, it was too much. You came so hard your vision went white, you still felt him curling his fingers inside you, sucking on your clit and whispering “please baby girl, I know you can come for me”. 

You regained control over your limbs and he pulled out of your warmth, kissing your thighs and making his way up to lay next to you. With one hand on your breast he curled up around you and buried his face in your next.

You thought he was sleeping until he broke the silence-

“How the hell did you get that thing on by yourself?”

You laughed and laughed until he kissed you again, making good on his promise to make it up to you.


	27. A New Future Imagined - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Holy shit I love that concept of Arthur being in the future with reader and having them cure Arthur’s TB. If its not too much to ask, would you please have a part two? I wanna see our cowboah healthy and happy again qwq

For the past three months the only thing you could think about was that damn cowboy. At work, at school, in the drive thru, you kept seeing his face in your mind. You kept seeing the blood spattered on the ground as he coughed, hoped to god the antibiotics worked and that he didn’t succumb to the easily curable disease. 

Today you found yourself again at the greenway, stuck in your car listening to that stupid song you had put on for him that completely blew his mind. You parked here everyday after work, you ate your dinner here, studied here, peed in a Gatorade bottle here. That last part wasn’t true but you felt like it sometimes. 

It paid off. Three months to the day he disappeared you looked up and saw the air break apart on the other side of the field. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

It was so far. You started your car and threw it in gear and sped off across the greenway, knowing full well how stupid you looked. 

You could swear it was getting smaller and smaller as you approached it and finally you sped through it, letting out a yell and scrunching your eyes. 

When you opened them it was desert, a large tree looming to your right and a house directly in front of you.

“Oh shi-”

CrasH.

It was only a few seconds but your airbag had deployed and your head was already throbbing. The front of your car was smoking. You looked around and you were most certainly not at the greenway anymore.

“What the hell?” 

You looked around, searching for the voice and finally you saw a group of men come around the house and stop at the sight of your car. 

Groggily you opened your door and stumbled out.

“Y/n?”

You looked up and there he was, stronger than he looked three months ago. He had put on some healthy weight and changed out of his 2019 clothes, but he was still gloriously Arthur and gloriously alive. 

You threw up and passed out. 

When you came to, the first thing you saw was a bright blue sky, a lone bird meandering across it. 

“Where the hell am I?” you asked, sitting up and holding your head. 

“Whoa, girl,” Arthur said, putting a hand on your shoulder and easing you up, “quite a crash you had there.” 

You looked up at him, it took a while for you to focus but there he was, a deeply concerned look in his eye. 

“I was starting to believe you weren’t real,” you laughed, sitting up and crossing your legs. 

“Course I’m real,” he muttered, handing you some water. You took it and downed it in one go.   
“You’re feeling better?” you asked. 

“Thanks to you,” he smiled. 

“You didn’t answer me,” you said, “where am I.” 

“Pardon me,” he said, pushing himself up and helping you to your feet. The house around you had seen better days, its roof caving in and walls so thin you were surprised they could hold themselves up.

Outside was hot but dry, tumbleweeds blowing in the distance. 

“Welcome to New Austin.”

“I’m in fucking Texas?” 

“That what it’s called in your day?” Arthur asked, leading you to a campfire about 50 feet away. 

“What year is it now?” you asked, “1899?” 

“1907.” 

“Why did I jump so far ahead?” 

“You’re asking me why whatever God there is up there opened a portal and sent you back to some arbitrary time?”

“Fair enough.” 

You reached the campfire and saw three men sitting around it. 

“Y/n, this is Charles, John, and Uncle,” he introduced, pointing to them all as he spoke. You nodded to them. “Fellas, this is y/n, the lady from the future who saved my life.” 

They all stood up and looked at you like you were a ghost. 

“How is your stagecoach?” Charles asked, gesturing towards your car. 

“Uhhh,” you looked back at your car, still stuck in the house. Suddenly the house collapsed on it, banging wood through your windshield and covering it further in debris. 

You winced.

“Not too good.” 

You turned away, unable to think about how you’d fix it when you got back home. If you got back home. 

“You all live out here?” you asked, clapping your hands together. 

“For now,” John said, “we had to tear down that house back there so we could build a new one on it. Guess you helped us with that.” 

“Glad to hear it,” you chuckled. 

“It’s been several weeks,” Charles said, sitting back down and pouring coffee, “we can’t seem to scrape up enough money to get it going.” 

“So like, what do you all do?” you asked, sitting down with the rest of them.

“Odd jobs,” John said, “I do some bounty hunting every now and then.” 

“Bounty hunting?” you said excitedly.

“It’s pretty dangerous,” John said, leaning back, “but I can usually get the job done quick.” 

“Don’t you have Sadie on most of your runs there, slick?” Arthur said, taking a sip of coffee. 

Charles and Uncle stifled a laugh. 

“She ain’t going with you anyway,” Arthur said, tossing his coffee cup across the fire, “she’s coming with me to do a grocery delivery.”

“Oh my god I got sent over a hundred years in the past to be a GrubHub driver?” you rolled your eyes but stood up with Arthur anyway. 

“Do you have Skinners in the future too?” Arthur asked, leading you to his horse.

“We have skinheads,” you mused.

Arthur hopped on his horse and held out a hand for you to climb on the back, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“You don’t need to do all that, now,” Arthur mumbled but didn’t protest any further.

“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” you said, “it’s scary.”

“Never ridden a… what the hell do they teach y’all in the future?” 

“Calculus.” 

You could hear Arthur roll his eyes as you set off down the road and into the dinky town of Blackwater. 

You waited as Arthur hitched his horse to a pole and the grocers loaded a wagon with groceries. It was amazing seeing how life worked a hundred years ago but god damn it was hot and boring. 

When they were done, you and Arthur climbed up onto the wagon seat and set off. 

“So this is what you do now?” you asked after about 15 minutes. 

“I supposed,” he replied. 

“Weren’t you like an outlaw or something?” 

“I was.”

“What happened?”

He grunted and looked the other way. Finally he spoke.

“I used to run with a gang out here,” he said, “but a job went bad and we fled east. Long story short we got betrayed and had to go our separate ways. Don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t cured me.”

“You seem to be doing alright now,” you said. 

“I only got back together with John and the boys a few weeks ago actually,” he pointed out, “said he needed help with the ranch so here I am.” 

“What about the person who betrayed you?” you asked.

“Long gone,” Arthur shook his head, “haven’t been able to find him.”

You pulled off the main road and onto a side one, a squat, log cabin coming into view. Arthur stopped the wagon and hopped down so you followed suit.

“Mrs. L/n!”   
You looked to him immediately. 

“Wait, who are we delivering groceries to?” 

Arthur pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and read.

“Marjorie L/n.” 

“Holy shit,” you whispered as the front door opened and out came your great-great grandmother, toddling her way towards you.

“Are you from the grocers?” she asked timidly.

Arthur heaved a sack of flour on his back and approached the porch.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, “my name is Arthur and this is y/n, my assistant for the day.” 

“Only there’s been some men crawling around the past few days,” she said, taking a seat in the chair on the porch.

“Have there?” Arthur asked, coming back out sans sack of flour. She pointed somewhere around the house.

Yes,” she said, “oh there’s one now.” 

You and Arthur spun around to see the bushes shake. He took the rifle from his back and pressed it into your hands. 

“You see anyone, you shoot,” he said quietly, “I ain’t too intelligent on the specifics of time travel but I don’t see any good comin’ out of you dyin’ here.”

“I don’t know what-”

“Just point and shoot, darlin’.”

And he fled into the bushes. 

You led your great-great grandmother to the door and turned around to see a man approaching your wagon. He spotted you and made for his gun.

The blast wasn’t as loud as you thought it would be but your ears still rang and you smelled gunpowder and saw a wave of blood blossom from the man’s chest. He fell back to the ground and you turned away, pushing Marjorie inside, closing the door behind the two of you.

No more than a minute later Arthur burst through the door.

“Y/n, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you brushed him off, “we’re fine. Did you get the guy?” 

“I heard a gunshot.”

“He’s out by the wagon.” 

Arthur strode to the window and peeked out. 

“I shouldn’t have left you,” he started. 

“We’re fine, really,” you assured him, handing his rifle back. 

Arthur finished unloading and you spoke briefly before he came to collect you. Marjorie saw the pair of you off.

“What did you say your name was?” she asked as you mounted the wagon.

“Y/n,” you told her, knowing full well that was your great grandmother’s name and your grandmother’s middle name. 

Back at the ranch, Arthur helped you down off his horse. The sky was turning dark quickly and part of you knew it was time to go home. 

“I’m sorry our simple grocery trip made you kill a man,” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m not,” you said, “that woman was my great-great grandmother.” 

Arthur looked shocked.

“Glad you know how to shoot a rifle then,” he laughed. 

The rip in space appeared again, this time completely engulfing your car. As it disappeared you took a step towards it but Arthur grabbed your hand. 

“Take care,” he said. 

“You too, cowboy.”

You stepped through and the Florida sunshine hit your face, unaware that any time had passed at all.


	28. Help a Brother Out - III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> (Arthur x M!Reader here yet again lol. Seriously tho I love your writing, thank you so much) how about the gang has a party, both get drunk, have emotional sex and end up admitting they love each other?

The outlet you had taken Arthur to turned out to be incredibly secluded and perfect to set up a tent and drink copious amounts of whiskey. 

You talked about everything, about how long Arthur had been sketching, where you were born and grew up, why John was so grumpy all the damn time. 

It was nice to see Arthur away from the camp for once, the gang added an emotional weight to him that wasn’t noticeable until he was away for an extended period of time. You knew he loved them all dearly, but they certainly took their toll on him, as you supposed families were wont to do. 

“Have you ever thought about getting our Arthur?” 

You were taking you last couple swigs on the bottle Arthur had passed you and tried to make the question as nonchalant as possible but there was no denying you had an agenda. Hopefully it wasn’t too obvious to Arthur that you wanted to steal him away from the dangerous life of an outlaw and settle down in the country somewhere.

“No,” he took to long to say, “I couldn't’t. In too deep now aren’t I?” 

He tossed his bottle to the side and leaned back. 

“There’s always hope for redemption,” you said. 

As a response, he grunted at you. 

You shook your head, the alcohol making you painfully aware of its presence. 

“We don’t have to think about that right now,” you said, standing up eventually and holding a hand out to Arthur, “right now I think I’d like your tongue down my throat.” 

“Awfully forward ain’t you?” Arthur hiccuped but took your hand anyway. He didn’t really stand up, more like swung around and landed on his back in the tent as you fell on top of him. You were both a mess, hands groping everywhere like snakes, giggling as you undressed each other with the grace of a toddler. 

“I want you in me this time,” Arthur growled against you neck and you tensed, god how you had dreamed of this, being completely enclosed by the man and pushing into him as he begged you for more. You almost got lost in your own fantasy but Arthur drove his teeth into your neck a bit too hard and you let out a yelp. 

“Am I gonna pay for that, big shooter?” he chuckled and you brought your knee up to press into his groin, making his head hit the ground. 

“I hate to reward your behavior but,” you fumbled in your satchel and pulled out a small bottle of olive oil and jiggled it above his head, “I got us something to make things a little easier.”

“So you’ll have my ass smelling like some fancy restaurant for a week?” Arthur said. 

“I can always use spit,” you shrugged, motioning to put the oil away. 

“No, no,” Arthur said quickly, grabbing your wrist and pulling it back. You smirked and fumbled with the top and poured some out on your hand, stroking your cock a few times and pushing a finger against his entrance.

“You alright?” you said, watching his face as you pushed another finger in, teasing him open. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply but he nodded.

“I can take more,” he breathed. 

“Well saddle up ‘cause you’re gonna.” 

You took a deep breath and lined yourself up, easing yourself forward and trying not to come immediately. It was tough to tell with whiskey, either you’d go three hours or five seconds. 

You could already it was a short night as you became fully sheathed in him and heard his breath hiss out through his teeth. 

He grabbed your ass and pulled you as close as he could, wrapping his legs around your knees. 

“Come on y/n,” he grumbled, “I know you got more than that in you.” 

The way he tensed around you was excruciatingly intoxicating and you leaned around him, kissing him fiercely and pounding into him much harder than you knew you should but he felt so good and the sharp breaths he took made your stomach feel light. He angled his hips up just so and you came hard, burying your face in his neck. 

You pulled out of him, rolling off and swinging your arm over your face. 

“I love you, Arthur,” you finally said breathlessly, “wanted to tell you earlier but thought you’d say it was the alcohol talking.”

“It’s the alcohol talking, boy,” Arthur grumbled, rolling up and exiting the tent. You sat up on your elbows and looked out at him, stark naked, lighting up a cigarette and peeing into a bush.

It most certainly wasn’t the alcohol talking.

He sat back down next to you and held out a bottle of beer, opening his own. 

“You’re gonna want me to say it back aren’t you?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“I love you too, y/n.” 

“We need to talk about what happens to us now.” 

“I was afraid you’d say that.” 

“Can you?” you asked, “safely?”

“I don’t know, y/n,” he shook his head and looked out over the water, “there’s still some things they need my help with.”

“Like what?”

“Strauss needs his debts,” he held up a finger, “Dutch needs me to break Micah out-”

“They can do without you Arthur,” you said, “it’s high time you starting doing things for you.”

“That’s what I have you for isn’t it?” he grinned at you. You huffed but smiled anyway. 

“Let’s talk about it when we aren’t so drunk,” you yawned and crawled into the tent.

He nodded and flicked his cigarette into the fire. 

Arthur stayed awake far longer than he should have that night, listening to your snores. 

Were it so easy.


	29. Money Lending and Other Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> hey can i get a sean x fem reader where instead of mary beth going on that (optional) stage coach job it’s the reader? and when she’s distracting the coach and the driver hits on her sean just goes on a rampage and starts shooting the coach up etc. if the reader could ask sean about it later on at camp that would be greattttt thanks xoxo  
> mltcp said to arthurs-wife:  
> Sean fluff? Yes, blease. I love my little Irish man and he deserves s o m u c h b e t t e r. (Hecc, it can be anything. I don't mind!)

Technically the first job you ever did was for man in Ambarino, somewhere near the mountains. He had wanted you to break into his neighbor’s cabin (who lived a mile away) and hide a stolen ring in their house. The law was called and there was something about a cow and ultimately it had ended with the neighbor throwing a bucket of fish at your horse, so suffice it to say that you were excited about your “first” job. 

Sean had approached you that morning and asked how well you could be a distraction to which you replied “the best”. Because when the cute Irish man saunters up to you and asks if a stagecoach robbery sounds fun, you say ‘yes’. 

As you brought him a rifle Arthur approached you both and insisted to come along. Sean wasn’t too keen on it but you were thankful for the extra firepower. Soon the three of you were riding along to Valentine to intercept the unlucky participants. 

“We’ll wait behind that log over there,” Sean said, hitching his horse along with yours and scampering down the hill. He and Arthur crouched and brought out their rifles. 

“I’ll fire a couple warning shots,” Sean said, “get them spooked, then we can scurry down there and rob ‘em blind.”

“Just a warning shot?” Arthur asked. 

“Of course!” Sean cried, offended, “what do you take me for Arthur?” 

“Yeah yeah,” Arthur said, looking through his scope, “there it is, better get down there, y/n.” 

You waited a moment before tearing your skirt and throwing your overshirt off and ran down the hill, timing it to intercept with the stagecoach as it approached. 

“Hey!” you cried, waving them down, “hey stop! Please!”

Sure enough the stagecoach stopped and you counted, two up front, three on horses behind. 

“What’s going on, miss?” the man up front asked.

“Oh my horse ran off,” you sighed, pushing hair out of your face and looking back to where you ran from, “bucked me off in a pile of brambles and I have no idea where I am. You gentlemen couldn’t give me a ride to town could you?”

“This is a banking coach, ma’am,” the other man said, “we can’t really take passengers.” 

“Oh come on Laurence,” the first man said, “young girl like this, we can’t just leave her out all alone.” 

“The boss is gonna be mad if he finds ou-”

A large hole appeared in the side of his head and he slumped over onto his friend, who jumped out immediately and ducked behind the coach. You looked back at the hill angrily. 

The three men on horseback rode to the hill and began shooting. You were too entranced by the gun fire that you didn’t notice the first man grab you from behind and you felt cold metal at your temple. 

Not how you saw yourself going out, really. 

Sean and Arthur dispatched the three men quickly and popped up over the log.

“Y/n!” Sean yelled. 

“I have your friend here!” the driver called, pushing you both forward, “don’t do anything stupid or she’ll-”

Another bang and this time you shouted, blood spurting on you as the driver fell to his knees and to the ground completely. Sean and Arthur jogged down the hill towards you, Arthur moving to the back of the coach to loot it and Sean rummaging through bodies. 

“Thank you /Arthur/,” you emphasized, squatting down and putting your head in your hands. 

“Anytime, y/n,” he called back. He came back around the coach and held up a huge money clip, “not a bad haul, Sean, good work.” 

“See?” Sean held his arms out, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Sometimes,” Arthur grumbled, “let’s split up and head back to camp a little later.” 

He mounted his horse and disappeared. 

“Sure Arthur, you can keep the money,” Sean grumbled, taking the pocket watch off a man.

“What the hell happened to ‘warning shot’, Sean?” you finally said when it was clear he wasn’t going to talk first.

“Oh you too, now?” Sean said, walking back up the hill, “first Arthur tears me a new one and now you? I thought I could count on you, y/n.” 

“I thought I could count on you to know what a goddamn warning shot is!” you yelled, unhitching your horse and mounting up, “you could have gotten me killed.”

“You knew Arthur and I were there protecting you,” he said, “listen we have to split up now but we’ll talk about this later, alright?”

“We won’t,” you huffed, spinning your horse east, “you leave me alone now, Sean Macguire.” 

And you sped off before he could say another word. 

You sort of wish you hadn’t said that because now it was dark and even the scouting fire couldn’t get you warm. When Sean had come back to camp he had immediately come to you but you turned away, walking to your tent and immersing yourself in a book. You tried to not think about the hurt look on his face.

Javier played his soft music, the Reverend nursed his bottle. Arthur came and sat next to you, holding a flask of whiskey and stared into the fire. 

“Want my advice?” he asked. 

“Depends.” 

“Go talk to the kid,” he said, “he cares about you. He’s still learning, just like you.” 

You huffed. Of course, Arthur was right. He clapped you on the shoulder and walked away. 

Sean was at his horse, brushing him down in silence. You approached cautiously and cleared your throat. He looked up, eyes brightening and took a few steps to you.

“Y/n,” he started, “I’m sorry I put your life in jeopardy like that, I wanted it to go well and I thought I could do it. When Arthur came along I knew he’d outshine me and he did, he had to go and save you from the trouble I caused.” He sighed and rubbed his hair. “I always seem to be making messes wherever I go.”

“I think Arthur cares for you deeply,” you assured him, “an you just need to learn from these mistakes and do better next time. Slow down, do things right, not fast.”

Sean smiled and it extended all the way to his bright green eyes. 

“Are you sayin’ there’s a next time?”

“If you promise you won’t turn it into a shootout at a moment’s notice.”

“I promise,” he said, holding hand up and reaching around to his horse’s satchel, “look, I found this on one of the blokes on horseback.”

He came back around and held out a pristine revolver, pressing it into your hands. 

“Because we haven’t been able to get you one yet,” he said, “I tried to give it to you back at the coach but you weren’t havin’ any of it.”

“No I weren’t,” you said, taking the revolver and inspecting it. He watched you the whole time, eyes big and expectant. “It’s a fine weapon,” you finally said and he beamed, “you can show me how to use it tomorrow.” 

“For the next time we go on a job?”

“For the next time we go on a job.”


	30. Help a Brother Out - IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> (Sorry I’m sending another prompt before you’ve even gotten the chance to write the last one) Arthur x M!Reader getting out of the gang together, building a little cabin in the woods and adopting a dog? (Tuberculosis? I don’t know her)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any chance i have to save Arthur from TB i will take i don't care how boring it gets

“Please let me come with you.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you expecting trouble?”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. You knew that sigh far too well by now. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked more tired than you had ever seen him. 

“I don’t want you to be around this kind of thing,” he finally said, walking to his horse, “this is a one-man job and I’ve been handling it fine so far.” 

You crossed your arms as he mounted his horse. 

“I’ll be back soon anyway,” he said. You jogged up to your horse and mounted it too, falling in step beside him. “Come on, y/n,” he sighed, “get off and go drink some coffee or something. I told you I got this.” 

But you didn’t. You trotted off into the forest and called out behind you.

“I don’t know where I’m going,” you said, “so you better get up here.” 

Arthur grumbled and caught up with you, falling beside you. 

“You’re an obnoxious little thorn aren’t you?” Arthur asked as you emerged from the forest, blinking in the sunlight. 

“Just thought you’d want some company today,” you shrugged and picked up the pace, “where are we headed?”

“Place called Downes’ Farm,” he pointed to a ridge not far away, “shouldn’t take too long, we’ll be back at camp before the sun starts to fall.” 

It was a pleasant ride to the farm, the sun shone down on them happily and he even got to hear Arthur sing for a few minutes. You made it your life’s mission to hear it again. 

On the top of the ridge, you stopped and hitched your horses, approaching the cabin cautiously. 

“Mr. Downes?” 

A woman came out through the front door.

“Come to threaten my husband for our money?”

“Your husband knew what he was getting into when he borrowed the money, Mrs. Downes,” Arthur called, moving around the house like a shark and towards a garden patch. There was a man leaning on the fence, coughing obnoxiously. 

“Please sir,” he managed to say, “I don’t have the money now but I will, I promise!”

He was plagued with another fit of coughing and Arthur stomped over to him. You couldn’t bear it. 

“Arthur!”

He stopped mid-step, his arm halfway to Downes’ face and turned to face you. The fire left his eyes like a furnace shutting its doors. He turned back to the man and lowered his arm. 

“You’re lucky this fine gentleman is here today,” Arthur growled, “but you better have that money soon.”

“Yes sir,” he stuttered, “of course, sir.” 

Arthur mounted his horse and motioned for you to follow him. You took the last look at the Downes’ family and trotted after Arthur.

“Have you no empathy, Arthur?” you asked him at the bottom of the ridge.

“He knew what he was getting into,” Arthur repeated, looking straight ahead.

“You know Strauss’ terms are beyond the realm of possibility,” you said, “and either way, that man was sick, were you really going to beat a sick man?” 

Arthur stayed silent for a while and soon you found yourselves near a riverbed. You stopped, Arthur stopping with you, looking at you questioningly. 

“If this is the way you are,” you said carefully, “I can’t be around you or this gang.” 

He looked at you narrowly.

“You knew what you was getting into when you joined us, y/n,” he said, walking his horse to you, “don’t tell me this comes as a surprise.”

“I fight against the law, Arthur,” you said proudly, “I don’t care much for the government and anything I can do to stay away from it or civilization is on my top priorities list. What I don’t do is take advantage of those less fortunate than I, especially the poor and sick.”

He looked at you strangely for a long moment, silent and thoughtful. 

“This is where our paths diverge,” you said, “unless you choose a better path and come with me. You don’t have to keep going down this road. You can be a better man.” 

You felt the sharp pain in your chest as you turned away from him and crossed the river, heading to the west like you should have done a long time ago. 

You set up camp in a small nook outside Strawberry, subconsciously making sure the road in front of you could see the light of your fire. 

You hadn’t cried yet and you weren’t starting now. Still, it was hard to see your roasting rabbit in the flames when it was all blurry like this, and at least the salt from your tears sort of seasoned the meat as you ate it. Who the hell were you to think you could change Arthur Morgan, to turn him against his family after four short months? 

Absolutely crazy. 

Hoofbeats reached your ears and you knew it wasn’t Arthur, it hadn’t been Arthur for the past several hours. You tossed a bone into the forest and leaned back, taking another swig on your whiskey. There was a small bag of items back at camp but all your essentials could be carried around in a satchel. You were always ready to go. 

Footsteps approached now and you took your gun out, standing up and pointing it into the darkness.

“Stop there,” you warned, “or you get a bullet ‘tween the eyes.” 

“I don’t think you’d like me with an extra hole that don’t need to be there.”

Arthur emerged, hands up and orange from the fire. You let the gun drop to your side. 

“Come to kill me for treason?” you asked. He let his arms down, too. 

“I come to apologize,” he said. 

“For what?”

“Leaving you like that.” 

You cocked your head at him and he moved around the fire to you, grasping your hand in his larger one and kissing a knuckle. 

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he said, “but I’m glad I waited so I could do it with you.” 

You kissed him and smiled. Sometimes things worked out. It was about time. 

Sneaking around Strawberry proved to be difficult and soon you found out that you were being followed. Arthur shushed you and stopped your horses, looking around with his gun out. 

“There,” you whispered and pointed to a spot in the bushes on your side, “let me look.”

You pulled out your gun and dismounted, heading towards the sound. Arthur cursed under his breath and got down to head after you. The pair of you approached the bush quietly. 

A creature jumped out and pounced you, causing you both to fall back. As soon as it did, however, you set your gun down and began laughing.

“Jesus Christ,” Arthur cried, sitting up and looking over at you, “scared the shit out of me.”

“Look!” you laughed as the dog licked your face, wagging its tail and looking between you and Arthur excitedly, “oh I love him Arthur and now he’s ours!”

“Oh no,” Arthur groaned, “I’m not taking no dog with us on our grand escape.” 

“Your what?” 

The silence was deadly as Micah appeared from out of nowhere, pointing his gun at the pair of you. You moved the dog from your lap and stood up quickly, grabbing you gun on the way.

“What the hell do you want?” Arthur said quietly.

“Just some answers,” he shrugged innocently, “saw you two camping out last night and got curious. Now it sounds like you’re taking off. How unfortunate for you.” 

He raised his gun and pointed it at you.

“I think I’ll get rid of you first,” Micah sneered, “so Arthur can watch his sweetheart die before I shoot him in the gut.” 

The dog barked and ran towards Micah, biting his leg and growling. 

“What the hell?!” Micah cried, bringing his gun around but it was too late, Arthur deadeye shot the man in the face and he slumped back against the ground. 

“Now we have to keep him,” you said, greeting the dog as he ran up to you and put his two legs in your lap.

“Does that dog only have three legs?” Arthur said, stomping towards Micah and searching his pockets. You looked down and sure enough, the damn thing only had three legs. 

“You’re not gonna abandon a three-legged dog that just saved our lives, are you?” you said, pulling the dog’s face towards yours and giving him the eyes. Arthur rolled his and pulled out a money clip, whistling.

“Shit,” he murmured, “there must be almost $900 in here.”

You sobered.

“Are you serious?” 

“As TB.” 

You mounted your horses again, Arthur keeping the clip and holding your hand for a moment before the horses picked up a good pace. 

California was a long way away, but you sat the dog in your lap and followed Arthur out of the damp woods and back onto the trail, feeling safer than you had in many years.


	31. The Fine Art of Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Hello! Just wanted to say that I love all of your Arthur Morgan x reader fics and I was going to ask if I could request one where she and Arthur are arguing and out of habit from threatening people, he grabs hold of her neck or wrist and continues to argue with her until he sees the fear in her eyes knowing that he is the cause of her being scared and please can it be fluffy at the end? I understand if you don’t want to write this because we all know that Arthur is a sweet little bean. Thanks!!  
> writing-in-hell said to arthurs-wife:  
> Hello, I know your requests are open but I always feel awkward doings these but could you do an Arthur or Dutch x reader (idk who you write for, sorry) where the reader gets really anxious over yelling/being yelled at. {Ps- not having a great night so I’m sorry if this bothers you. You don’t need to write it either, I understand.}
> 
> (A/N: there were two prompts that were similar and i hate combining but im running behind right now, im sorry. anyways i hope you enjoy this bc i sure didnt im still crying bye)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: descriptions of panic attacks, aggression against you/reader.

Gunfire rang past your head, hitting a water barrel behind you. You were no more skilled with a gun than the kid down the street but here you were, ass end of a rifle and too many men to point it at.

“What are you doing, y/n?” Arthur called across the camp, “make yourself useful and shoot them!”

You took a deep breath and said a prayer to whomever, steeling yourself to get out there and make your new gang proud. Finally, you popped out of your cover, rifle at the ready to see..

Every Lemoyne Raider dead on the ground.

Your rifle dropped to your side. God damn it.

“What the hell were you thinkin’ kid?”

Arthur stomped over to you, revolver stowed and hands curled into fists. You had no idea how to deal with confrontation so you cowered where you stood, the giant of a man soon in all of your space.

“It was a mistake, Arthur,” Charles said gently, albeit at a safe distance.

“Mistakes can get you killed,” Arthur said, “and you almost got us, yourself, killed. You could have led those bastards back to camp.”

“I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out, “I wanted to help-”

Arthur grabbed you by the arm and looked like he immediately regret it. Your fight or flight response didn’t seem to be working. It was more like fight, flight, or completely shut the hell down. Tears stung in your eyes. You were a fool to think you belonged here.

“Can’t help no one if you’re dead, kid.”

Charles walked up silently and put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, who seemed to sober almost immediately. He looked down at you and sighed, letting go of your shoulder. You rubbed where his fingers had dug in.

A last look up at him and you mounted your horse quickly and rode off.

“Damn it, y/n,” Arthur called, “wait!”

Luckily you didn’t have many things at camp but your hands were shaking so hard that it took longer than it needed to. Your breath came in short spurts at one point and you had to bury your face in your hands, trying so hard to keep your pain in the ass panic attack quiet.

The flap of your tent ripped open and there was Arthur. You’d had enough of him.

You grabbed your satchel and strode to your horse, head held as high as it could go. At one point you thought you could love the man. He was kind, gentle, caring for his family. But there was a beast within him, one you weren’t sure could be tamed.

“Y/n,” he said softly, “just stop and let me talk to you.”

You kept on.

“You stubborn…”

He grabbed your arm and spun you around but you were quick this time. The barrel of your revolver was pointed at his shocked face and your heart hurt and the look on it.

“If you touch me again,” you hissed, “one of us will die.”

Arthur gulped and the entire camp seemed to go silent. You felt a blush creep up your face and you put your gun down, spinning around and packing your horse.

“Can we go talk somewhere?” Arthur asked quietly. You turned to face him, ready to say no, to say I’m getting out of your life as soon as I can and you can’t stop me. But he looked heartbroken.

“Fine,” you said, “but what I said stands.”

“Fair enough.”

You two didn’t walk far, just beyond the light of the camp, before you stopped by the shore. The moon was waxing, just shy of a full moon and it danced across the lake, completely unaware of your issues.

“First off,” Arthur said, holding up his big hands, “is I’m sorry. There is no excuse for what I done and I hope you can try to see it to forgive me.”

“I’ll try,” you nodded, still not looking at him.

“Second,” he said, pulling something out of his satchel, “I want you to take this.”

It was a journal, new and black leatherbound. It must have set him back quite a bit.

“What’s this for?” you asked, turning it over in your hands.

“It was tough for me to start writing again,” he said, “after all that’s happened, but I’ve found it helps with the anger and sadness.” He laughed at your look. “Mostly.”

Your eyes filled with tears again and you looked up at him.

“I don’t want to pretend like I know what you’re going through, y/n,” he went on, “but I don’t want to be the reason it gets triggered. So I’ll do my damned best to help you, however you need it.”

You reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist and he chuckled for a moment before patting your head and embracing you back. You felt his scratchy beard on the top of your head as he kissed it and pulled away.

“Stay with us, y/n,” he said, “we’re not the most perfect family, but we will love you the most.”

You followed him back to camp and helped Abigail with her son Jack, telling stories around the fire and singing with Javier. After that night, your attacks came less frequently and you were able to track them with your new journal.

And it wasn’t until many years later, as you opened the old, tattered thing next to Arthur’s grave to the last few pages that you saw the small, folded piece of paper stuck inside of it.

_“Y/n,_

_Just picked this thing up from Rhodes, I think it’s nicer than mine so you better take care of it. Dutch gave me my first journal when I was 16, taught me how to write in it and everything. I do wish I hadn’t lost it in Blackwater, I’m sure there’s some hilarious juvenile things in there that we could laugh about._

_Anyways, I hope by the time you find this we’ve made it out west and thriving. I hope Jack is doing well and John has learned to stop being a dumbass. Not likely. I don’t really want to end up in Tahiti. Don’t tell Dutch but I’m not entirely sure I know what a mango is and at this point I’m too afraid to ask._

_I hope I got the chance to tell you I love you._

_All yours,_

_Arthur.”_


	32. Red Dead Homestead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tinkerpistol asked:
> 
> Hi Me, this is past-you, how meta can you even get? i want a prompt for the van der lin gang x reader set in your mystical homestuck AU, HOMESTEAD, where they meet the orlando group and have to fight off the bath salt runners. ur welcome u blowhard
> 
> (hey past-me, nice shameless self insert. here’s your fic, you filthy animal also yall please go read my stupid homestuck AU https://archiveofourown.org/works/487682/)

The ground beneath you continued to complain and this time it felt she was serious.

“We need to get moving,” you said, standing up and throwing your bag over your shoulder. The gang had been severely split since the Wave a week before. Was it a week? Time blurred together in the humid swamps of North Florida. 

“We just stopped,” Arthur said, still sitting on his rock, cigarette smoke wafting up in one clenched eye and rummaging through his pack, “we’re out of water after this bottle.” 

He tossed a bottle to Sadie, who caught it deftly and downed half of it in one go. You and the gang had stopped somewhere outside Gainesville to rest, preferring to not head through the town completely exhausted. Next to Arthur was Charles, then Dutch, Sadie, Javier, and you last. Only you and Sadie stood, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. 

You had seen firsthand the ground open wide silently and devour an entire neighborhood. It didn’t help that neighborhood was yours. The gang had picked you up a ragged mess outside Inverness. You all had camped for a few days before the sinkholes caught up with you, forcing you all to head inland and north. 

But now you felt the true impact of the Wave. You had seen it on the new cliff overlooking the Gulf where Florida’s shoreline and 40 miles of land was supposed to be. It was a slow escape from the land below you and it was near impossible to stay in absolute terror that long. 

“Let’s just cross through Gainesville,” you said, near begging, “and we’ll camp on the other side. I have a bad feeling about saying here.”

“We need to rest, y/n,” Dutch said, echoing Arthur, “we’ll camp here for the evening and set out first thing in the morning.”

You sighed and put a little distance with yourself and the group. Sadie looked apologetically at you before setting her pack down with the rest of them. 

In a few hours it was pitch black, the clouds in the sky obscuring any light that wanted to make its way to you. You probably needed the sleep but you sat near the edge of camp with your pistol, unable to tear your eyes from the road. 

Arthur shuffled his way to you, propping up on your tree and rubbing his eyes.

“How long you stayin’ out here, y/n?” he said groggily.

“Til morning.”

“You’re a fool,” he said, shaking his head. You shrugged. 

Presently you heard distant gunshots and you stood up, Arthur straightening next to you. 

“Told you,” you grumbled, motioning for Arthur to wake the camp. 

“What’s the matter?” Charles said, rushing to you with his rifle ready. The gunshots were closer and you could hear screaming now. Distant figures appeared running towards you. They must have seen the campfire because they started shouting at you.

“Run!” they cried, “get the hell out of here!” 

A squelchy kind of screech crawled its way to your ears and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. Charles stiffened beside you.

“What on god’s earth was that?” Arthur said softly. 

The clouds broke and you saw the people more clearly now, two women, three men, running for their lives. Behind them were grotesquely distorted piles of limbs making their way too quickly down the road after them. 

“In here!” you yelled, motioning to your camp which was behind several cars. As they approached, they jumped the cars and faced the things, now very close to your group, too close. 

You all aimed your guns and fired, shots pouring from the barricade into arms, chests, legs, stomachs. Nothing stopped them. 

“My god,” Charles whispered. 

“Keep at it,” Arthur said, his voice shaky.

A bullet hit one squarely in the head. That seemed to do the trick. 

One of them broke through and slammed Arthur to the ground.

“Arthur!” you cried, aiming your gun but it was too dangerous. He slid out a knife and pushed it through the thing’s eyeball, making it screech that horrible sound until it slumped onto Arthur. He groaned and pushed it off. 

“Is that all of them?” you asked, looking around at your group and the new arrivals, all breathless and shaken.

“Alright,” Arthur said, getting to his feet and pointing to no one in particular, “what the hell were those things and who the hell are you?”

The taller man stepped forward and extended his hand to Arthur.

“My name is Dirk,” he said, voice calm in the face of almost getting ripped apart, “these are my companions, Dave, Sollux, Roxy, and Jane. And we don’t know what those things are, we just ran into them outside Interlachen.” 

“Where’s that?” Dutch asked, moving towards the front.

“About 15 miles that way,” Dirk pointed to their east. 

Dutch introduced the gang and you all nodded in turn.

“Where are you all headed?” Dirk asked, following your gang back to the campfire, “bold of you all to set up camp so close to the road.”

You locked eyes with Sadie and tried to not laugh.

“Not sure yet,” Arthur said, “we had a plan but the ground kept trying to kill us.”

“She’ll do that,” the woman named Roxy said, holding her cigarette in her mouth the same way Arthur did, “we should know, we just barely got out of Orlando.”

“What’s going on in Orlando?” Javier said quickly. Roxy looked like she immediately regretted bringing it up.

“It uh…” she started. 

“It’s ocean now,” Dirk provided. Javier stared for a moment before getting up and spinning around quickly, heading into the forest. 

“That far inland?” you asked. The sinking coastline made sense, but Orlando? Jesus Christ. 

“We have it on good authority that Tampa is gone too,” Dirk grimaced. You couldn’t bring yourself to be surprised. 

“Where are you all headed?” you asked the Orlando group.

“We heard there’s a town up north called New Homestead,” Roxy said, “supposed to be a new start.”

“You should tag along with us,” the woman named Jane piped up. Her voice was small but commanded attention and it held such sadness that no one wanted to say ‘no’.

“There is safety in numbers,” Charles pointed out, “especially against those runners.” 

“Those are good points,” Dutch spoke up, “unless anyone has any objections we’ll set out in the morning. Arthur, y/n, take watch until morning if you will.” 

You and Arthur headed back to the road and sat next to trees opposite one another. Arthur pulled his hat down over his eyes. 

“You take first watch, darlin’,” he smirked and fell asleep.

It was going to be a long night.


	33. The Joys of Civilization - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SniffleDipple on Chapter 27   
> Can I please request a dad!Arthur x reader? Like reader is maybe around 12 or 9 but is alone and Arthur finds her? And she's like, super amaz ballz at shanking ppl because she's been alone for so long?   
> That's actually very specific, sorry. You can write your own situation with her too, obviously. :)

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

_Wake up._

It’s raining.

You blink a few times and roll over. The newspaper covering you is soggy now, no good. You kick your feet for a few seconds before getting up and pressing yourself further into the awning. The wet didn’t bother you, it was the hours of soggy clothes clinging to you in the humidity that followed the wet that was miserable.

“Hey! You!”

You turned sharply and saw the horrible man emerge from his shop. Damn. You thought you’d have more time before he spotted you.

He grabbed the nearest item out of a trash can and tossed it at you. It missed as you bolted from the alley and down the main street. Carriages zoomed by, people rushed past you in umbrellas pretending not to see you. You had been homeless in Saint Denis for several years now, a ratty street urchin with no place to go and no one to care about you.

It was hard to get anyone to hire you and it was even tougher faking your age because you still looked so young. But today you were in the double digits and determined to get a job. Down the windy street you went to the factory, pushing your tiny shawl up to your neck to shield most of the wind.

“Where ya headed, orphan?”

Great. These assholes.

You dodged a kick from the kid behind you and spun around expertly, sweeping his leg and stepping back into the arms of another bruiser. The Smithie gang, a bunch of preteen tossers if you said so yourself, had always given you hell since you first stepped foot in the streets. They’d have taken you in if you weren’t so young. Or a poor farmer. Who knows.

You struggled but the large kid had a strong hold on you. Mattie stepped in front of you with a sneer.

“What makes you think you can take our job at the factory?” he said.

“Wasn’t going there,” you mumbled. Mattie took a swing and hit you right in the side, making you double over.

“Nice try, dipshit,” he chuckled, “you better get your smelly, poor ass off of our turf before we deal with you for good.”

He swung and hit you in the face, you turned and spit out a tooth. That’s fine. It had been loose anyway.

You aimed a kick at Mattie’s groin and he doubled over. Your head flew back and hit the large kid’s nose, making him cry out and release you. The two other kids moved in as Mattie scrambled to the side.

“What are you waiting for idiots,” he cried, “get that orphan!”

They moved in but you were quicker, dancing behind one and thrusting your tiny fist into his kidney. He howled and was brought to his knees. The other one raised his fist and swung it at you and you ducked, flinging your arm up to catch him in the jaw. Mattie roared, getting to his feet and striding to you. You turned around and faced him with a knife outstretched and he stopped, flicking his eyes up for a moment.

“Scatter, boys!”

And they turned tail and ran, making you smile and stand up straighter.

“Hey, kid!”

Shit.

You turned around hiding the knife and was faced with the tallest man you’d ever seen. You made to run but he held your shoulder and you slashed out, catching his arm with the knife. He withdrew but stayed put and you stopped, feeling horribly guilty.

“Are- are you okay mister?” You asked, dropping the knife.

“I’m fine, kid,” he laughed, “I’d ask you the same thing but you seem to have a good handle on things.”

You shifted nervously, unable to respond to a grown-up acting civil towards you. He got on his knees to face you and smiled.

“Are you by yourself?” he asked kindly. You nodded. He rubbed his beard with his hand a few times. “Ahh Hosea’s gonna kill me.”

“Who?”

“I’ve got a bunch of people just outside town,” he said, “we move around a lot but there’s food and people there that won’t kick the crap out of you. Want to join us?”

You instinctively moved away and he held out a hand.

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer who lures little kids away and feeds them to alligators?” you asked suspiciously. He laughed, a booming sound echoing through the alley.

“You got an imagination on you, kid,” he finally said, “but if it makes you feel better you can keep me at arm’s length and I’ll let you keep the knife. Sound fair?”

You grumbled but nodded and he stood up and led you from the alley.

It was a long walk but you kept your distance throughout the town before you saw smoke coming from the trees and you stopped. The man turned around and dropped to a knee in front of you again.

“I’m gonna go in there and have my friend Miss Grimshaw come out okay?” he said, “just so you feel comfortable about the whole thing.” You nodded, thankful you didn’t have to say what he obviously knew what was on your mind. As he walked away you called for him.

“Hey Mister!”

He turned around.

“My name is y/n!”

“Arthur!”

He waved back and disappeared into the forest.


	34. An American Pastoral Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna on Chapter 28   
> How about arthur and reader on the hunt for an Arabian horse! (Choose a good name for her!) my Arabian horses names were/are Opulence and Vendetta.

It was far too cold up here and you remembered quickly why the gang had high tailed out of here. You shivered in the tent as Arthur came back inside, shaking snow out of his beard. 

“Doesn’t look like it’ll be letting up anytime soon,” he said, pulling his jacket around him tighter, “you sure you still want to do this? You don’t even know if it’s real.” 

It was the third time he’d said it and it was getting old. You were starting to doubt if the Arabian was real too, but of course you wouldn’t tell Arthur that. It had been three days and there was no sign of any horse, Arabian or otherwise. 

Arthur didn’t seem to mind, fortunately. He seemed at home in the wilderness, catching fish and hunting rabbits for the two of you to eat, stoking the fire every once in a while. You thought this would be the only life he would leave the gang for. 

But now it was storming, the wind whipping terribly outside that was cold enough to penetrate the tent. 

“We’ll find her,” you said for the third time. 

When the wind died down there was still some light outside and you emerged from the tent, holding your shawl around your face.

“Where ya goin’?” he called, poking his head reluctantly out of the warmth of the tent.

“She might be out now!” you replied, tromping through the snow towards the edge of the mountains. You heard him groan behind you and leave the tent, lighting a lantern and clomping after you. 

On and on you went through the snow, stopping every once in a while to listen for any sign of horses. 

Soon you heard it, the distant neigh and you threw out an arm to catch Arthur in the chest. 

“Damn woman can you-”

“Shh!” 

He rolled his eyes but complied, listening intently with you.

The neigh rode on the wind, carrying it to you as if it knew you were here for her. 

“This way!” 

You waded as fast as you could through the snow towards the edge of the lake and she appeared, ghost white and almost invisible against the fresh snow. She looked up at you, as perfect as she could be. 

“I’ll be damned.”

“I told you, Arthur,” you said proudly, “I told you she was out here and look there!” 

Arthur hung back and you approached just as slowly as you could, holding your hands out in a sign of peace. She was immediately wary, flicking her head back at you and backing up. It was slow work but you managed to get within 5 feet of her, her soft nose almost touching your hand. 

A howl and she screeched, rearing up and running away as fast as she could. 

“No!!”

You ran after her, following the hoof prints as best as you could. 

“Y/n!!” Arthur called, starting after you but finding himself surrounded by wolves and pulled out his gun to defend. The wind was picking up again and it was getting dark now, a horrible time to be out in the snow but you didn’t care, you had to find her again. 

The last thing you remember was darkness before you passed out in the snow. 

A puff of wind in your ear and a nibble on your cheek. 

“What the-” you whipped your head up and saw her long face nuzzling at yours intently. She kneeled and nudged you up until you could swing an arm over her neck and climb onto her back, slumping over and passing out again. 

“Y/n, y/n! Wake up!”

Arthur was running over to you, lantern held high. You woke up and held your arms out to him, melting off your horse and into his arms which carried you to the tent. 

Unusual to pass out three times in a row. 

When you woke up properly, you turned over and saw Arthur at the fire through the crack in the tent flaps. You crawled out and sat next to him, blanket pulled tightly around you. The sky was blue and clear in all directions. He passed you a cup of coffee and you took it gratefully.

“Anyone ever tell you what a dumbass you are?” he asked incredulously and you couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or proud. 

“Once or twice,” you said, sipping lightly and enjoying the warmth. 

“That horse saved your life you know,” he nodded and you saw her hitched next to Arthur’s horse. You stood up and walked slowly to her. She nuzzled your hand and you pressed your forehead to hers. 

“Hello, Opulence,” you said quietly. 

She was perfect.


	35. The Course of True Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> midnightmads   
> Arthur being super cuddly and stroking the readers back, playing with her hair, and simply being huge a cuddle bug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so short im sorry

Arthur’s fingers kneaded in your back and you were in heaven. Steam rose around the two of you and you took another sip of red wine, leaning forward so he could stroke down your back. 

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” 

It was Arthur’s idea, staying the night in Valentine at the hotel and paying for a deluxe bath for you. He had kicked the bath girl out and was now in her stead, rubbing soap along your legs and arms. He was now on your back, rubbing the muscles in your neck as you finished off the last of your wine. You were sorry for it to end but he handed you a towel as you stepped out and escorted you to the room. 

The door shut and you let the towel sink to the floor. He moved behind you and let your hair down, stroking it lightly as he planted soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. He lifted you up deftly and lay you down in bed, stomach down, and took a space next to you. He let his fingers run up and down your back softly, up into your hair and back down again. 

“You’re being awful sweet tonight,” you said quietly, almost asleep with how comfortable you were. 

“I can’t be sweet with my girl?” he said, feigning hurt feelings. You giggled. 

“Of course you can,” you said, “just wondered if you had a secret agenda.” 

“Secret agenda?” he scoffed, “what do you take me for?”

“Well excuse me for assuming you had more than half a brain.”

“I wouldn’t have a secre- wait.” 

You opened one eye at him and began laughing as he pushed you onto your side and pulled you closer to him. 

“You can’t be gettin’ me all dirty now with those clothes, Arthur,” you said, “not after that supreme bathing you just gave me.”

He hummed and undressed as quickly as he could and pulled the covers over the pair of you. 

“That better, my queen?”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.”

“Of course you do.”


	36. Visiting Hours

“You’ll remember to dispose of the bodies this time, Arthur?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes and fastened his coat tight. He had opted for all black this evening, as was his wont, turning back towards their Grand Elder, Dutch Van der Linde. At the moment, Dutch was drinking was Arthur assumed was blood from an all gold chalice, as was /his/ wont. Flashy bastard. 

“If you’re talking about that little mix-up in Valentine, it was only-”

Dutch held up a hand and set his drink down, standing up to put an arm around Arthur’s shoulder.

“My boy,” he chuckled, “you know I didn’t mean anything by it. That man was a fool and most certainly deserved to die. We just don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention to ourselves, not when we just settled in this…” he looked around at the swamp, “...charming bayou.”

“Yeah well I can’t wait until we depart this charmer,” Arthur grumbled and moved to his horse.

“Would you rather be back in the 1670s?” Dutch put his hands on his hips, “pray, do you remember what it was like to live without guns?” 

“That was rough,” Arthur agreed, unhitching his horse and turning, “you want anything while I’m out?”

“No I have everything I need here,” Dutch said, becoming distracted by a young vampire they had turned several weeks ago. She passed him, grabbing his arm and leading him off.   
Arthur sped off towards Saint Denis, hungrier than he had been in days. The last man he’d fed from wasn’t disposed of properly and made them abandon their hideout near Valentine, one they’d stayed at for months. Dutch seemed to like it here near Saint Denis, much to Arthur’s dismay. He had never been one for humidity. 

Tonight he had been invited to some fancy party at some fancy rich white lady’s house, he couldn’t be bothered to care. Charles had told him the house was full of bonds and possibly gold bars, so here he was decked out in his finest formal wear, hitching his horse a safe distance away from the house. 

He turned quickly to the alley and saw flashes of yellow dart into him.

“Charles,” he greeted, and the yellow dots disappeared, a man emerged from the shadows.

Charles wiped a stream of blood from his mouth and his fangs retracted. 

“You ready?” he asked. 

“Anything left on that guy?” Arthur nodded. 

“Sorry,” Charles shrugged, “he was my first kill in three days.” 

Arthur growled. 

“Let’s get this thing over with,” he said, striding to the house steps. 

Th house was large, even by Saint Denis standards, and was packed full of the city’s finest socialites. They climbed up the steps and a butler greeted them at the door. 

“May I take your coats, sirs?” 

Arthur and Charles passed them over and stood for a moment. This was uncomfortable. The butler looked at them strangely.

“Are you going to go in, sirs?” 

“Can we?” 

“Of course, please do go in.” 

They both sighed and crossed the threshold, separating once they got to the back porch. The garden was filled with people and a light quartet song swayed on the wind around them. Waiters mingled around offering trays of food, drink. People guffawed and whispered behind fans. Never really his cup of tea, these parties. 

~~~

Never really your cup of tea, these parties. 

Your dress was too tight, your make up was too caked on, your heels were fucking murder. At least you had your fan and were putting it to good use. It must be a hundred degrees, and it was dusk! You realize the gentlemen in front of you had been talking to you.

“Excuse me, what did you say?” you asked as politely as you could. 

“I asked,” the man huffed, “if you had any opinion on the man that was hung in the square today.” 

“Dreadful business,” you nodded solemnly, fanning harder, “the whole deal.” 

He pursed his lips at you and wandered off. Thank god. You grabbed the nearest drink from a tray and downed it in one go. You did a double take and looked closer at the man across the garden, fully decked out in black and thoroughly looking like he didn’t belong there. He was looking around at everything but none of the guests. Finally, he slunk back behind the garden wall and disappeared. 

This night got interesting. 

As quietly as you could you followed him, keeping close to the wall. Near the door he stopped, a guard was posted there. Surely he was foiled now!

He approached the guard and looked around before speaking. 

“Excuse me sir, I’m looking for the men’s room,” he said.

The guard turned and pointed back to where he came and the man /grabbed/ the guard and /bit him in the throat/! The two men sank to the ground as the taller one continued biting his throat and you gasped, causing him to look up, mouth stained with blood and fire red eyes burning into you. 

In a flurry he was in your face, one hand around your throat and the other covering your mouth. 

“I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth,” he said quietly, “and you’re not going to make a sound, or you’ll end up my dessert. Alright?” 

You nodded and he released the hand from your mouth, letting his fingers trail along your lips. 

“Although I wouldn’t mind having you in other ways…” 

“Do you mean to kill me sir?” 

“No,” he said as if that were a heinous crime, “no but I can’t imagine you letting me go scott free, not after what you just saw.” 

“What are you?” you asked, a little breathless from his hand around your throat. He removed it and brushed his fingers across your chest and between your breasts.

“Just a little hungry is all,” he shrugged, “haven’t eaten in days.” 

“And you eat...people?” 

“You seem more curious than frightened,” he pointed out, doing a quick scan to make sure you weren’t being watched, “most people would have run away screaming by this point.” 

You really didn’t know why you were still here. You looked back at the party. God awful bunch. 

“Why are you here?” you asked. 

“To rob the place blind,” he said, “why are you here?” 

“My fiance dragged me here,” you huffed, “wants me to mingle with the crowd more.” 

“Sounds like a prize.” 

“I know where Mrs. O’Dell keeps her gold bars.”

“You just get more delicious by the second.” 

You took his hand and stepped over the guard, leading him into the house and winding through rooms past guards until you reached the staircase. You kicked off your horrible shoes and led him up and into a hallway, where a shadow approached. It was too late for you to hide so you turned to face him, grabbed his shoulders and-

“Hey what are you two-” the guard began but stopped. You pulled away from the man out of a deep kiss and looked at the guard apologetically. “Uh, that room there is open if you want to…”

“Oh thank you, sir!” you said politely and drug the man through the door, slamming it and breathing a sigh of relief. “We’ll wait for him to leave, the room with the bars is just across the hall.” 

You turned and the man was still looking at you hungrily.

“You gonna finish what you started, girl?” 

You blushed terribly and stammered before he swooped down and devoured your lips, his hands grasping you waist so hard that you gasped, then dissolved completely into his hold. You had never experienced a kiss like this, so raw and unbridled that it ripped the breath from your lungs and left you craving more even as it was happening. 

He broke away and panted, fixing you with a look that held a question and your responded without a doubt in your mind you wanted this. He spun you around and pinned you to the door, tearing your dress off in one go, deftly pulling the bones in your corset apart. 

“Oh Jesus Christ,” you moaned, more out of relief that you could now breathe than anything.

He pressed his length against you and growled, an animal sound in the ornately decorated room around you. His hand slid across your hip and around to your front, down your lips and circling your clit a few times. You weren’t sure men knew about that and god how happy you were that you were wrong. 

“You nice and ready for me now?” 

You nodded and hoped he got the point but went on anyway to say, eloquently, “god, yes please, sir, please-”

You heard his belt clink and fabric fall to the floor and sucked in a breath, feeling him press his huge head between your thighs. You could feel the slickness against you already and pressed your ass into his hips. 

“Easy, girl,” he mumbled, placing one hand on your ass and pushing you up so he could line himself up with you. His nails ran down your back and you damn near choked on nothing, throwing your head back and letting out a uncivilized moan. His head pushed into you and good fuck he was huge already, how the hell were you going to fit in the rest? 

Both hand rested on your ass now, pulling you closer and easing his cock more and more inside your warmth. You hoped you were tearing him apart as much as he was for you but now you couldn’t bring yourself to care that much because shit he was fully inside you and you were both panting so hard for some reason. 

He slid an arm around your chest and pulled you up so he could place his lips near your ear. His other hand was still creating bruises in your hips. 

“You hold on, darlin’,” he whispered, dragging his teeth down your neck and onto the trapezius muscle, biting down hard. 

You couldn’t help but let out a cry, banging your fist on the door as he rammed into you over and over, hips thrusting against your ass loudly and biting down hard. You could feel warm blood flow between your bodies and you would be revolted but for the tingling light now flashing through each bone, each muscle, your vertebrae. Every time he plunged into you another burst of light poured through you. 

He finally let go and cupped a breast, moaning and pressing his forehead against your upper back. You felt him shake his head and pull out and you whined as he flipped you around, slamming your back to the door and hitching your leg up, your knee resting in the crook of his arm. He steadied his hand on the door and entered you again, watching his cock slide into you slowly and groaning. 

He snapped his hips up and your head flew back, hitting the door with a thud as you stood up on your toes and arched your back and you wanted him to bite you again so you just-

“Would you bite me again, please?”

Without hesitation he turned his head and grabbed your outstretched wrist, sinking his teeth into it and sucking. It sent shocks of pain through your arm, your stomach, but he fucked you at just the right angle as he bit and you came all over him, it ran down your legs and he groaned at the slickness and picked up his pace. 

He rolled his hips up harder, harder, until all you saw was whiteness and all you could hear was his breathing in your ear and he cried out, pressing your bodies together completely as he came in you, filling you up completely and if the bite didn’t claim you as his own then this certainly did.

You both stood there for a moment, painfully aware of how sticky and uncomfortable you felt. You slowly pulled your leg from his grasp and he pulled out, holding you steady as you regained your balance… and sight. And other senses. He moved away from you as you caught your breath, putting himself away and rummaging through some drawers. He tossed you an over sized coat and a grey union suit. 

“Hope this fits,” he said, “sorry about your dress. It was real pretty.” 

“It was a pain in the ass.” 

You pulled on the suit and coat and looked down at yourself, sighing. The lights were really bright and you shook your head. What the hell were you supposed to do now. 

“What’s this?” you heard him ask and looked to where he was, fiddling with a lock box under a table. 

“Oh I think I got my rooms mixed up,” you said, “this is the gold room.” 

There was a loud bang on the door and you both looked up quickly.

“Sir, we need you to open this door immediately!” 

You looked back to the man, who simply beamed at you. He climbed onto the desk and opened a window, holding a hand out to you. Shrugging, you took it.

“The name’s Arthur Morgan, miss,” he said before throwing you both out of a goddamn window, “and you have a long few days ahead of you.”


	37. Help A Brother Out - V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> I’m totally cool with the cabin and just having them alive and happy. I want to say again, thank you so so much. You’ve really captured Arthur and the M!Reader makes me feel so represented in this fandom so thank you, seriously. Also thank you for letting Arthur shoot Micah in the face like we all wanted him to

You looked out across you farm and sighed in relief. It was finally starting to look more like a farm and less like a… withered pile of vines. You could see Arthur waving at you from the porch, his way of saying ‘get your ass inside and eat some dinner’. You set your plow down and set off towards the house.

The cattle mooed solemnly in their pen to your left, those had been a pain in the ass to get. $20 a piece they were! The horses were a little better, Arthur was excellent in taming wild horses so you two had a small herd of them by now. The chicken coop had been set up near the house and you had more eggs than you knew what to do with. 

It had been seven years since your flight from the gang and it was finally starting to feel like home. 

You pulled your boots off and set them by the door before heading inside to a delicious smell. Arthur must have outdone himself this evening. You rounded a corner to see the back of Arthur, completely naked but for an apron tied around his waist. 

And what a fine waist it was. 

You approached slowly as he fussed with the soup and cupped a hand around a buttock. You slid it around his waist to the front and-

-thwack!-

“Ow!” you cried, drawing your hand away and chuckling, “what was that for?” 

“Need to eat first,” Arthur said matter of factly, heading to the table with two bowls. He set them on the table and sat down, motioning for you to do the same. So unfair.

You ate the hot soup as quickly as you could but it was difficult, especially since it was so damn good. 

“Is this the one we fed the sweet water to?” you asked.

“Naw that Petunia,” he shook his head, taking another bite,” she’s still out there in the barn making a ruckus. This is Priscilla.” 

“Aw,” you said, “I liked her.”

“That’s why I told you not to name them,” Arthur admonished, but there was no malice in it. 

“Can we talk about why you’re naked now?” you asked, pushing your bowl away. 

Arthur looked up at you and grinned, that stupid, sly grin he always had when he was up to something. Nice to know after all these years, the little things stayed the same. 

“You smell like cow shit,” he said, standing up and taking you by the hand, “let’s get you into a bath.” 

He was meticulous about undressing you, taking off your suspenders, belt, overshirt, sliding your pants down and pressing his mouth against your cock before getting back up and pointing you to the bath. 

“You really had this planned out, didn’t you?” you asked, sliding down into the soapy water and groaning. Naked Arthur be damned, you’d be fine with just the hot bath. Except then Arthur kneeled down next to you and put his huge hands on your shoulders, kneading soft at first and sliding his thumbs up the muscles in your neck. 

“Been a while since you’ve relaxed,” he muttered. Indeed, you couldn’t think of the last time you had a chance to just sit down and not do anything. You or Arthur. 

He leaned you forward and rubbed down your shoulders to your lower back and your head hit your chest. You could probably fall asleep but he moved around you, sliding his hand between your thighs and wrapping a hand around your length and chuckling. 

“You’re so easy, you know that?” he laughed. 

“I can stop being so attracted to you, if you’d like,” you suggested.

“No you can’t,” he murmured, lips against your ear and squeezing. He was right. You were hopeless. 

Usually water was not a good conductor for this sort of activity but something he had put in the water not only made it smell extra nice but made everything incredibly slick. You found yourself bucking up into his hand and splashing soapy water everywhere, white knuckles on the sides of the tub as you came so quickly, your head against the warm metal and breathing deeply. 

Arthur’s voice finally penetrated the steam and your own haze and you looked over to him.

“Hm?” you asked. 

“I said,” he groaned, standing up sans apron, “got enough strength to take care of me now?” 

You growled and stood up, stepping out of the bath and pinning him against the wall. It was so warm in here, from the water and the two of you breathing so heavily. You placed your hands on his broad chest and kissed him, wet hair plastered to your face and water dripping from you onto him. 

You kneeled in front of him, taking him entirely in your mouth with your nose pressed against his stomach and you heard him draw in a breath and the thud of his head on the wall. Your hands steadied on the wall behind him and pulled back some, sucking on his head and pushing back down as far as you could go. 

His little moans kept you going and you grabbed his ass, pushing him into you as he fucked your mouth and grabbed at your hair. He let out a cry and came in your throat and you swallowed him whole, milking him for every drop he had. 

The windows were fogged, there was water all over the floor, you had no idea where your clothes had gone to, and you just sat in front of him, looking up at him with an almost drunk look on your face, smiling like an idiot. 

“Let’s get you to bed, darlin’,” he said, helping you up and throwing you a towel to dry off with. 

The sheets were nice and clean and so were the two of you (for once) and you slept better that night than you ever had in your life. 

End.


	38. Favored Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> can I make a request? I dreamed of Arthur and Charles finding a pregnant woman in the woods (during a hunting trip) and helping her to give birth. I love your writing so much !! I'm sorry but English is not my first language!
> 
>  
> 
> (A/N: i truly love birth stories lmao i hope i captured this like your dream! thank you for the prompt!!)

A chill flew through the air and Charles shivered, drawing his coat around him tighter. 

“Too cold for you over there, Charles?” Arthur chuckled but buttoning his coat up as well. 

“Just got too used to the swamps is all,” he said. 

The monthly Charles and Arthur Hunting Trip was drawing to a close and they had not a single animal to show for it. It was more for tradition now anyway, a chance for the two men to bond in an increasingly busy and messy life. 

A cry up ahead made them both stop and crouch. 

“Animal?” 

“No,” Charles shook his head and stowed his gun, “sounds like a person. Come on.” 

Arthur followed Charles up a brush path and saw a woman holding onto a tree for support. She turned around quickly at the sight of the two men and tried to run. 

“Wait, miss!” Arthur said, standing up.

“Please don’t run,” Charles added, “are you alright?” 

She stopped and turned, her hand holding a knife out to them.

“I don’t want no trouble, misters,” she said, her forehead was covered in sweat and her belly was huge, “just leave me in peace, please.” 

Charles and Arthur stood for a moment to contemplate but their decision was made when the woman let out a sharp cry and fell to her knees. Charles rushed to her side and took her hand.

“Easy, miss,” he soothed, leaning her back against a tree.

“I have to get back home,” she said, “I can’t have this baby out here.” 

“I don’t think you’ll make it past the treeline ma’am,” Arthur said, crouching next to her, “what do we do, Charles?” 

“We can’t just leave her here,” Charles replied, looking around before taking off his jacket and putting it underneath her, “we’re gonna have to deliver this baby.” 

“Ah Christ.” 

Arthur knelt down and put a hand on the woman’s shoulder, who leaned into it immediately and grabbed it with her own hand with surprising strength. 

“What’s your name miss?” Charles asked. 

“J-Jane,” she said through a contraction.

“I’m Charles and this is Arthur and we’re going to help you through this,” he said calmly, “I need you to lie on your side and bend your knees up, can you do that for me, Jane?” 

She nodded and got into position while Charles helped her with her skirt. 

“Arthur, sit by her head and make sure she breathes, okay?” Charles instructed.

“How the hell do I do that?” 

“I don’t know, count or something.” 

“Count?”

“Or something!”   
The sun was setting quickly and the temperature was dropping. Arthur was cradling Jane’s head in his lap as he counted slowly to her and Charles was doing his best to keep her bottom half warm. 

“Are you ready to push, Jane?” he asked. 

“No,” she said shaking her head, “she’ll be so cold out here!” 

“We won’t let her be cold, will we Arthur?” 

“No ma’am,” he shook his head and stroked some hair off of her forehead, “let’s count again alright? One, two-”

A scream pierced the forest’s air and Jane near broke all the bones in Arthur’s hand as she pushed. For ten agonizing minutes Charles coaxed and soothed, Arthur counted and stroked, and Jane finally pushed one more time. A different cry rang out and Charles laughed, catching the new human before she could even touch the coat on the ground. Arthur held out his own large, furred coat and Charles wrapped the new baby in it, handing them to Jane. 

She took her baby and sobbed, leaning her head back against the tree and opening her shirt to offer her baby a breast while Arthur sat back and watched. 

“What are you gonna name her?” Arthur asked after a while. 

“Ada,” Jane said quietly, “after my mother.” 

“That’s a pretty name,” Charles nodded, taking his knife out, “are you ready for me to cut the cord now?” 

Jane nodded and Charles hefted the knife up, severing the cord in one go. 

“Better let us take you back to our camp for the evening until we can get you to town,” Arthur said, helping her up. 

“Thank you,” she said, straining to stand, “both of you.” 

The two men held her steady and they made their way back to camp, two new additions in tow.


	39. Old Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Hiya love. Just want to say that I’ve loved all of your Arthur x reader fics and I was wondering if I could request one where the reader is insecure about her body and decides to stop eating for a while and Arthur finds out when he grabs her arm and accidentally hurts her and from then on is scared to touch her thinking she’s going to break because shes to delicate or something (coz he’s a sweet boi) and dose everything he can to help her. I’ll understand if you don’t feel comfortable Thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: ahhh thank you so much for the kind words!! 
> 
> So this mini-fic is gonna get into some major body image issues, please skip if you don’t want to read about that. I want to preface all this with: Fat =/= Bad. You can be fat and beautiful. You can be fat and worthy of love. I am not a licensed psychiatrist or therapist but if you are ever feeling bad about yourself or your body please feel free to talk to me, my messages are always open to y’all. <3 )

(A/N: ahhh thank you so much for the kind words!! 

So this mini-fic is gonna get into some major body image issues, please skip if you don’t want to read about that. I want to preface all this with: Fat =/= Bad. You can be fat and beautiful. You can be fat and worthy of love. I am not a licensed psychiatrist or therapist but if you are ever feeling bad about yourself or your body please feel free to talk to me, my messages are always open to y’all. <3 )

You took another look in the mirror and sighed again. You pinched another flab of skin on your belly. You heard that voice saunter in from the back of your head.

Huge. Fat. Ugly.

“Those words aren’t synonymous!” you shouted to no one. You sighed. 

A knock rapped on the door. That would be Arthur.

“What’s takin’ you so long in there?” he called from the other side.

“Just give me a second,” you said, pulling your shirt on and grabbing your gun from the table. 

Arthur was leaning against the windowsill and looked up when you came out.

“‘Bout damn time,” he muttered and strode down the hall, “damn women and your rituals.”

“Excuse me,” you huffed chasing after him, “I think you have on more articles of clothing than I do.” 

He looked down and damn it, you were right. 

Outside you both mounted your horses and began heading west to camp. After the stagecoach job yesterday, you had split up and slept in separate towns before heading back. Arthur had insisted on meeting up with you at your hotel this afternoon, though. It was sweet of him. 

“Any trouble last night?” he asked when you were both at a gallop. 

“No,” you shook your head, “except for this one feller who…” you stopped and shook your head again. It was suddenly hard to focus. 

“You alright, y/n?” Arthur asked and he sounded far away.

“Yeah I’m just…” you were unable to say what you were just as you slumped over and blacked out. 

Y/n, wake up! Y/n! 

The sun was rudely digging through your eyelids and woke you up almost immediately. Arthur swam into focus above you and you sat up quickly before he held you back. 

“Easy, easy,” he said, helping you up slowly, “what happened?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “maybe it’s the heat.” Arthur narrowed his eyes at you.

“When was the last time you ate?” 

You stared at him. Surely he couldn’t see through you that well, could he? 

“It’s,” you started, “I had breakfast this morning.” 

“What’d you have?” 

“I had food,” you said stupidly, of course you had food, “I had some potatoes.” Jesus you were bad at lying. 

“Damn it, y/n,” Arthur grumbled, “you said you wouldn’t start this crap up again.” He took you by the upper arm yanking you up to your feet. You yelped as you heard something pop and Arthur let go of you as if you burned. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” he said, “what did I do?” 

“It’s fine you just,” you sighed and rubbed your shoulder, “I guess I’m weaker that I thought.” 

He rubbed the back of his head and took a step away from you, like even exhaling would topple you over. 

“Arthur I’m fine,” you assured him, holding out your hands as if you weren’t dying of starvation, “look at me! Fit as a fiddle.”

“Girl you ain’t fit,” he said, pulling your horses to you. You mounted up again and rubbed your eyes. 

“I’ll be fine,” you said, “just need some water.”

Arthur cocked his head at you and looked out near the woods. 

“What say we go hunting tonight,” he asked, “stay out in the wild for the evening.” 

He probably had ulterior motives but you shrugged, not one to complain about a free night alone with Arthur. Not like anything would happen. 

So the two of you headed into the forest and set up camp in a nice clearing next to a stream where he saw some rabbits and taught you how to catch one. It was nice not having to worry about anything, Arthur’s arms wrapped around yours as he taught you how to hold the bow. All up until-

Are you serious? He doesn’t want that. 

You shook your head and tried to focus on the rabbit, Arthur breathing in steadily behind you. 

“That’s it, y/n,” he whispered, “slow and steady.” 

Your heart skipped a beat. 

Why would he want someone like you? He has his pick of attractive ladies at camp. Do you really think you could be attractive like them? 

You groaned and let the arrow go, somehow miraculously hitting the rabbit dead in the neck. You pushed away from Arthur who immediately sprang back. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “did I-”

“You didn’t do nothin’,” you waved and stalked over to the rabbit. You grabbed it and walked back, throwing it in his lap. “Cook that, will ya?” 

“Are you going to eat it?” he asked, walking behind you back to the fire.

“Maybe,” you threw up your hands, “maybe I won’t, who cares.” 

You sat on a log and Arthur tossed the rabbit near his pack before sitting down next to you.

“Y/n, are you upset with me?” he asked. Your head sank to your chest. “If it’s still about me hurting your earlier I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not that, Arthur,” you said, looking back up at him, tears in your eyes, “I like you.” 

He seemed to flush and it was adorable.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I like you too.”

You both chuckled at how juvenile the pair of you were. 

“And I think you’re beautiful,” he said, lifting your chin up to look at you, “no matter what you do.” 

The voice in your head was silent for once. 

“Now you better eat this rabbit or I’ll throw you in the damn river.”


	40. Obstacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> usweasil said to arthurs-wife:  
> So I have an Arthur x innocent!reader request. So reader wants Arthur to be a little rough in their next love making session. Thing is their super shy and it’s the first time their asking for it. So reader builders up courage(a lot of it) and goes to ask arthur. Only when she’s asking it gets stuck in her throat, the stupid words just won’t come out! And it takes Arthur having to coax the words out of you and boy is he surprised when you say them! That is until he gets mischievous. NSFW/sfw

Arthur Morgan had been nothing but the kindest, most gentle lover you had ever been with. Of course, he was the only one you’d ever been with, but if by some horrible accident you found yourself with another lover, Arthur would have surely spoiled you. 

When you made love he stroked your hair, kissed all down your cheeks and neck, whispered how beautiful you were as he made your legs shake around him. 

But now his shirt was off and he was sweating, swinging an axe and grunting with every cleaved piece of wood. He stood up and set the head of the axe on the stump, wiping sweat from the back of his neck and nodded at you. 

It took you several days to work up your courage, and what a tumultuous several days it was. Almost as if Arthur knew what you were up to, he took those days to chore heavily and shirtless, heaving sacks across camp, emptying wheelbarrows of dirt with such obscene noises they made you blush all the way across camp. 

You decided to bury your nose in a book and not think about Arthur yanking your hair back as he shoved you face first into a mattress or smacking your ass repeatedly while he fucked you relentlessly behind. You knew he had it in him but he wouldn’t be the one to ask. 

“Y/n,” he greeted, moving into the blessed shade of his tent and tossed his soaked shirt on the top of his wardrobe. He closed the shades around his wagon, creating a room for the two of you so he could get changed. You tossed your book down and sat up on his cot. 

“Arthur,” you said matter of factly. He stopped in the middle of taking his pants off and looked at you curiously. Suddenly, you couldn’t speak. Everything you wanted him to do to you was stuck in your throat and clawing to not get out. He stepped out of his pants and stood before you completely naked, the sweat shining on him. 

“Yes, darlin’?” he asked lowly, taking a step towards you. 

“I-I thought we could,” you swallowed, the lump in your throat getting bigger and bigger. You were raised a proper lady! Proper ladies didn’t sully their tongues with rhyparographic utterances. “I thought we could change things up a bit.” 

“Oh you did?” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow, “in what manner? Dinner? We could do something different for dinner.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant,” you shook your head, he was awfully close to you now, you could see his length erecting as you spoke and it made your mouth water, “I meant in… in bed.” 

“Oh you wanna switch sides?” he chuckled darkly, standing in front of you now, looking down at your parted lips and running a thumb across them, “I don’t mind sleeping closer to the wagon.” 

A flash of heat bolted through your chest and you grabbed his wrist, watching his eyes go wide. You took his finger and sucked the tip, pushing it entirely down to your throat and keeping your eyes on his the whole time. You saw his chest flare, felt the heat of his cock against your wrist and you shoved two fingers in your mouth, letting your tongue curl between the two of them. 

“I want you to fuck me Arthur,” you finally said, breathless and flushed, “I want you to slam me up against a tree and wrap your hands around my neck and plow me raw and when you’re done I want to throw you on the forest floor and play at St. George until you can’t come no more.” 

Oh dear. You supposed this was where a sheltered life of politeness left you. For sure he would pack his erection up and leave without a second thought, who could want such a foul mouthed woman as you? 

His hand slid from your face, still slick with your spit, and down around your neck. His huge fingers squeezed ever so slightly and pulled you up. You stood up slowly and met his mouth with yours, a chaste and promising kiss. 

“Well sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips, “all you had to do was ask.” 

He spun you around and laid a broad hand on your back, pushing you down onto the bed and grabbed your hips, pulling you back to press his cock against your unfortunately clothed backside. 

“How much was this skirt, darlin’?” he asked, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“I-I stole it from a job a few days ago,” you stuttered, face buried in your hands. 

He grunted and tore it off in one piece and you probably could have came right there if it wasn’t for the head of his dick pressing between your thighs. With a quick movement he grabbed your right leg and pushed it up so it was tucked underneath you. He did the same with your other leg and held you steady by your hips. You’d never felt so exposed and so anxious until he slid a finger inside of you, fucking you gently and feeling your slick drip down his hand. 

“You think you can handle all of me like this?” he asked, trailing his other fingers down your ass and pressing a thumb against your hole. You let out a tiny cry and nodded. As if to call your bluff, he added a second finger, a third, speeding up and digging his fingers into your hips as you bit down on the bed roll in front of you.

“Please-please Arthur,” you finally managed to say, letting out tortured gasps of pleasure.

“Please what?” he asked, taking his fingers out and sucking them exaggeratedly.

“Please I want,” you tried, “I want you.” 

He lined himself up with you and pressed his head into your heat, keeping a grip on his cock and stopping. 

“You didn’t get me all worked up,” he admonished, “with all your talk to go silent on me now, girl.” 

“Please I want you to fuck me Arthur,” you said muffled, pressing your face in the cot and blushing harder than ever, “I want your dick to split me in half, I want you to choke me until I come so hard I can’t see straight!” 

It seemed to work for him and he grabbed your hair, yanking it back and slamming his entire length in you. At this angle it wasn’t anything to laugh at and you cried out, feeling his cock slide out and back in again and you could feel every glorious inch of him and you almost sobbed. With one hand pulling your hair, the other pressed itself against the small of your back, holding you in place as he moved faster, the sound of his hips hitting your ass a steady beat in the hot air. 

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, letting go of your hair and using both hands to pull your hips back in an attempt to push deeper into you. Your hand flew down to your clit and it was easier for you to come than it ever had been. Arthur’s short moans behind you, the way his hips snapped up and hit every little erogenous zone inside you, you fell apart beneath him and spouted incoherencies laced with Arthur’s name and other expletives as he let out his own drawn out moan heard for miles around as he pulled out of you and came. You felt the hot strings lace along your back and dug your fingers into the cot beneath you. 

“Oh Jesus,” you finally said, letting your legs unfurl from under you and kneeling on the ground. 

“Here, let me get that,” Arthur said almost apologetically and it was truly astounding how quickly he could go from raging animal to proper gentleman in such a short period of time. 

He wiped the load from your back and threw whatever unfortunate fabric he had chosen to the side and helped you up to lay on the cot next to him. You had almost fallen asleep when he reached over and kissed you on the forehead. 

“You should speak up more often,” he laughed quietly.

“Can’t do it too much,” you sighed, “you might get sick of it.”

Arthur shook his head. There was no way he could get sick of you.


	41. Legendary Wolf Pelt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Soo in regards to the a/b/o fics if you are able to write how the reader goes into heat and then it gets super smutty and Arthur basically is an animal in the sack and gets super dominant with the reader???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how a/b/o works so here is my attempt at something passable in the omegaverse

You were usually pretty good with your cycles but these past few months had been hell on you. Moving into a new camp with not one but _three_ alphas, with only one of which didn’t seem to be interested in you. The others were… dubious, to say the least. It was strange being in a camp with this many alphas but it had been working for this long, hadn’t it? 

The main Alpha, Dutch, had taken you in recently, knowing full well what you were. Small of stature but unusually good-looking for an Omega, you had been wandering the heartlands in search of… well you weren’t sure. It had been so long since you’d had a good experience with an Alpha, and this one promised you a whole new life. 

And so you met Arthur. 

There was an older Beta male, Hosea, who you took to immediately, showing you around the camp and introducing you to everyone. Most in the camp were betas, actually, with the exception of Micah, a new Alpha to the pack, and Abigail, the first female Alpha you had run across. 

There were several Omegas too, there was John, Mary Beth, Molly, and a very quiet man named Javier. At first, only Mary Beth would talk to you. She was the one who helped you with your erratic heats, bringing you towels and moving you as far away from the camp as she could. Abigail had her hands full with Mary Beth and John, Dutch was bonded with Molly, and Micah sort of scared you. 

The unfortunate downside to this whole mess of a story was just a simple misunderstanding and lack of communication. 

You had kept your eye on Arthur since the moment you stepped foot in camp. His large frame, tightly cut fade, the stubble on his jaw that clenched whenever he saw you, he was made to be an Alpha. Instead he served under Dutch, born into the wrong category and forced to spend his days a lackey to the more fortunate. 

Which is why you asked him to accompany you to an old cabin one weekend. 

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, the first words he’d ever spoken to you. 

“It’s a day’s ride,” you pleaded, “everyone else is busy and I think it would be a good score.” 

You may be a Omega, but you weren’t helpless. You’d be damn sure to pull your weight around here. 

His eyes roamed over your face and seemed to completely understand you in one studious gaze. He sighed and swung his legs off his cot and stood up. He loomed over you like a statue and you caught a whiff of him as he pushed past you. Something was different about this man, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

Still, you felt safe as you wrapped your arms around his waist, galloping across the countryside. You dug your nose a bit more into the fabric of his coat and breathed him in. You were so lost in thought you almost didn’t register the three men now in your path, guns aimed at you two. 

And now was an excellent fucking time for your heat to come back. 

One of the men must have been an Alpha because he smelled you immediately. 

“Hop off that horse,” he laughed, trotting up to you both and holding a shotgun to Arthur’s head, whose scent had changed completely, “I’ll let you keep your money if you let me keep that fine looking O you’ve got there.” Arthur’s new scent hit you like a wave and were you not clinging so tightly to him, you might have slid right off the goddamn horse. 

“I’d put that to rest if I were you,” Arthur said and you looked down, noticing claws where his fingers should be, his eyes turning black. The man blanched at the sight of Arthur’s new fangs bared at him, a low growl coursing through his throat and into your bones. 

The man growled for a moment, his own eyes growing dark before Arthur grabbed the revolver from his side and shot the man between the eyes. The horses cried and the other two men scattered, leaving you alone with a dead Alpha and Arthur. 

He hadn’t moved from his spot, revolver still trained into the growing darkness but his breathing was labored now, his skin grew hot and you could feel it radiating from under his clothes. It scared and excited you, you had been so sure he was a Beta. 

“Arthur I…” you started, becoming uncomfortably slick but your hands sliding along his thighs hungrily, “...I wouldn’t have asked if I had known.” He didn’t say anything but put his revolver away. “I wouldn’t have put you in this situation, I’m sorry-”

He hopped down off the horse and looked up at you. 

“I can ride back on my own so you don’t have to-” 

He reached up and yanked you down and you wrapped your legs around his waist possessively, feeling his dick hard against you already. His scent enveloped you and made you feel lightheaded.   
“You ain’t going nowhere.”   
His grip became tight on your arms and your heart raced. Every other Alpha who had you was rough, unforgiving, used you as a dump before moving on. Even though Arthur was barely containing himself, he searched your face for permission, for any sign that you needed this from him, not just that you needed it.   
“Please-”  
Arthur wasted no time in tangling his fingers in your hair and pulling you closer to him.   
Conveniently there was a tree nearby and he slammed you against it, making your breath leave your lungs momentarily and crying out. He silenced you with a kiss and you moaned, his entire being wrapping you up in its warmth and protection. You could feel his length struggling to break free, to claim you as his own, fill you up completely and you needed him so bad it hurt. 

He seemed to sense it and tore off your bottoms and you felt the slick run down your leg, heard Arthur’s possessive growl as it hit him. He broke free of his pants and entered you immediately, making you both groan and melt around each other. He pushed in hard and sunk his teeth into your neck and you felt the tips of his fangs pierce your skin, felt warm blood gush down your front and it sent shocks through you so hard you thought you could light up a city. 

“God, Arthur,” you managed to get out, raking your nails down his back and he ripped himself away from your neck to grab it, forcing your head back into the tree and fixing you with a deadly look. 

You thought for a moment he was angry, how dare you draw blood on a fully grown Alpha? But his eyes grew dark again and when he spoke it was less human than you were used to.

“Better grow some claws if you want to draw blood on me, baby.” 

Perhaps he thought it was cute, how you thought your weak form could possibly harm someone like him. You scratched and clawed and bit wherever you could, hearing his dark chuckles as he continued to fuck you against the tree, your back scraping against the bark. 

You could feel your orgasm building around him, his knot growing larger and larger and his breath coming more erratically. 

“Mark me,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and panting in his ear, “I want to be yours, all yours.” 

“You’re goddamn right you are,” he growled and pulled your head back by your hair, his orgasm pulsing into you at the same time you came, a waterfall rushing down the both of you. He slammed into you a few times, making you scream each time his knot pushed itself deeper into you and you both finally settled. 

He lowered you both to the ground gently, laying on top of you and shutting everything out except the two of you. He nuzzled your neck where his bite mark stung, kissing your ears and cheeks, stroking your hair. 

“I thought you were a Beta,” you finally said, rubbing the backs of his calves with your feet.

“I thought I was too,” he admitted, “never found the right one I guess.”

“Can that happen?” you asked.

“Just did,” he chuckled, getting up on his elbows to look at you. You felt so safe here and didn’t want this to end, just you and Arthur here on the forest floor for all eternity. 

It had to end and an hour later after small talks and lots of kissing, he pulled out of you and helped you back in your clothes, putting his own on only after you were safe on his horse. 

When he climbed back in the saddle everything was different. 

“Still want to head out to that cabin?” he asked.

“Of course,” you slapped him on his thigh playfully and he laughed. 

“Tenacious, aren’t you?” he said. 

_Oh, you have no idea._


	42. Wolf Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> (You know who this is :P) We talked about it a bit but could you write a fic of Arthur x M!Reader and scratching and all that?

“It looks kind of…”

You cocked your head to the side to survey and you weren’t sure what it looked kind of. You heard a heavy thud next to you as Arthur dropped his bag and put his arm around your shoulder. The two of you had just spent most of your savings on an old farmhouse out in the country and here you were in the doorway. It was the strange aftermath of a culmination of months of hard work towards something, and now that something was right in front of you. The excitement had faded away and now there was just-

“Cold feet?” 

You looked at Arthur and shook your head violently. 

“Of course not!” you protested, heading further into the house and inspecting everything. You saw that Arthur had moved in most of your furniture already. The old china cabinet from your grandmother, his old chair that you had hoped would get “lost in the move”. 

“I, um,” he faltered and slipped his arms around your waist, “I brought the bed.” 

“You are insatiable,” you said, turning around and reaching up to kiss him. 

Of course, so were you when it came to the man and he lifted you up deftly, bringing you into your new bedroom and burying his face in your neck. 

He deposited you on the bed, fully made up and soft as a feather, releasing his hold from your neck and moving to your lips. You slid your hands up his shirt and grabbed at his chest and he pushed his hips into you. 

You were content with just this, Arthur pressing his weight on you and kissing every inch of you he could reach, but his hips jerked the tiniest bit and hit you just right and you let out a little cry, digging your nails into his skin and ripping them down. 

And poor Arthur, never had done anything less vanilla than having you on top with the lights on, his eyes flew open and he arched his back and let out an honest to god cry. You stopped, wondering how bad you had hurt him.

“Oh god, Arthur,” you said, pulling your hands from his shirt, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Do it again.” 

His eyes darkened and he fixed you with a look that had never graced his features before and you couldn’t tell if your erection was out of fear or lust. You reached under his shirt again and grabbed him by the waist, digging your fingers in again and hearing him hiss between his teeth. 

His lips crashed into your again, hands flying wildly to your belt and unbuckling it, pushing your pants off and across the entire room and taking your cock in his broad hand, stroking slowly. You groaned at it and pushed a hand into his hair, figuring now was an excellent time for an experiment. With a full fist of hair you pulled his head back, exposing a long expanse of throat. 

The high-pitched moan he let out that you had never heard before made you buck up into his hand and your teeth met his throat, biting down gently at first, then harder when he let go of you and pressed his hand onto your hip. 

At some point his pants were off and his shirt was unbuttoned, one sleeve tangled up behind him and your shirt had somehow been shoved behind a pillow above your head and you were on top of him, nipping at his collarbone, his chest, that little bit of skin between his thigh and his hip. His dick was leaking and he was a puddle of a man writhing beneath you. 

You sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth and cradled his balls in your hand, squeezing lightly and running your hand up his chest. You tried to get as much spit as you could on him, plunging down as far as you could go. 

You could feel him tightening and you raked your nails down his chest, the red welts already forming. He cried out again and thrust up into your mouth, making your throat tighten around him. The tendons in his neck strained as he came, gripping the bed sheets so hard you were afraid he’d tear them to pieces. 

You felt the hotness in your throat and you swallowed him down easy, popping off of him and licking your lips as he growled, yanking you up by your arms and you ended up straddling his chest, his hands on your ass. 

“Fuck my mouth,” he snarled. 

You complied. 

You braced yourself with one hand on the wall in front of you, slipping your aching cock into his mouth and he twirled his tongue around you. You thrusted shallowly at first and sped up as he pushed you further into his throat. 

“Shit, Arthur-”

He couldn’t speak with your entire dick in his throat but he hummed around you and the vibrations sent shocks through your legs and stomach. His hand slid up to your back and he scratched you as best as he could with his dull nails but it hurt so good and it pushed you over the edge. 

Your legs weakened beneath you as Arthur sucked every last drop of you he could and you collapsed next to him, the pair of you panting like dogs on a summer day. 

“Didn’t think you’d like the scratching,” you finally said, wiping your forehead and turning your head to sneak a glance at him. Your marks were shining nicely now in the setting sun’s light and he let his fingers drift lazily across them. 

“Learn something new every day,” he shrugged, more in spirit than physically. The pair of you were too exhausted to move a bone in your body.

“Still got a feeling about the place?” he asked you after a while. 

“I do,” you said, “but it’s a good feeling now.”


	43. You'll Face the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Hello love, I’ve just finished the mission where Arthur dies and i was going to ask for a fic. But please don’t read if you haven’t finished the game! instead of Arthur dying on his own on the ridge that when Arthur was attacked by Micha the reader steps in to help but gets shot by Micha and instead of Arthur crawling towards the gun he’s crawling towards the reader and when their hands touch Dutch obviously steps on their conjoined hands. Ect and they both pass away watching the sun together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally describe you dying in this chapter so skip it if ya dont want to deal w that

“Micah stop!” 

The man turned to look at you, eyes turned black and blue from Arthur’s fists. He threw Arthur to the ground and stood up, wiping a trail of blood from his lip and stalking towards you. He laughed at the gun in your hand as if you wouldn’t use it. 

“So Arthur has to send his little lackey to save him, does he?” 

His voice cut you to the bone and you chanced a look at Arthur still on immobile on the ground behind Micah. Your heart thudded in your chest, you couldn’t see straight. The gun in your hand, was it even loaded? What was your plan here, chief? 

Micah took a step closer to you and you pulled the trigger. 

Micah stopped, and laughed. 

“Did you forget to load the gun?” he roared, stomping up to you and yanking it from your hands, “Arthur I knew you were a dumb son of a bitch but this one’s got you beat! Dumber than Marston!” 

He took a few bullets out of his bandolier and loaded your gun, the one Arthur gave to you when you first joined their gang. It had six notches on the hilt, one for each member you’d lost. You hadn’t been able to add Miss Grimshaw’s yet. 

Now the barrel was in your face and your breath hitched, you wished you could have at least told Arthur how much you-

Bang! 

Dark red spread across your shirt and you looked down. A hot pain shot through your insides and you dropped to your knees, keeling over while holding your gut. 

“Now you get to watch your partner die before you get the chance to, Black Lung.” 

Arthur cried out as best as he could with two black eyes and a mouth full of blood, pushing himself towards you. As he grabbed your hand you felt cold metal and looked up. It was Dutch, tired and forlorn. 

He kicked the gun away from you both.

“It’s over, Arthur,” he pleaded, “it is over.” 

“I gave you all I had,” Arthur said quietly, “I did.”

Dutch stepped back, stuttered, watched as his brother died beneath him slowly. 

“Come on Dutch,” Micah said, “let’s go buddy! We won!” 

“He’s a rat,” Arthur coughed, “you know it, and I know it.” 

“He’s sick!” Micah cried, looking around him wildly, “he’s talking crazy! He damn near killed me and shot our young friend here!” 

Dutch looked back down at the pair of you, moving further away from you all on the cliff, trying to distance himself from the mess he created. 

“In the end I tried,” you heard Arthur say, your vision starting to go black around the edges, “I did.” 

Arthur finally grabbed your hand and you squeezed as best as you could. Dutch looked between the three of you and disappeared into the shadows on the cliff. 

Micah growled and turned to hear the law behind you all, calling out to each other. He slunk away into the shadows, leaving you and Arthur on the ledge together. 

“You shouldn’t have come back for me,” he said, dragging you around the rock with his remaining strength. 

“Had to try,” you shrugged, feeling blood swirl around in your mouth as Arthur propped you up against the rock. He slid down beside you and took your hand again. 

The sun broke the horizon, its golden glow spreading across the land. It was a good final sight. 

You turned your head to look at Arthur and noticed his chest had gone still. You squeezed his hand, and closed your eyes.


	44. Been Needin' a Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Hiya I love your account so much. This is my first time requesting a fic but I was wondering if you could please write something where Arthur is busy doing something in his room/ tent and the reader is kissing his neck trying to distract him or a fic where he’s kissing her neck and hugging her from behind. Been needing some Arthur Morgan loving. ☺️ Thank you love ❤️

“Arthur.” 

A grunt.

“Arthurrrrrr.” 

More grunting. Is that all that man knew how to do? 

He sat on the edge of his bed and fiddled with his pistol, an actual pistol, not the other… you get the gist. He clenched a cigarette between his teeth and squinted one eye as the smoke rolled up. You kicked your feet and sat up, holding the blanket over your bare chest even though the tent was closed. 

“Pay attention to me,” you whined, running your hand along his bare arm and kissing his shoulder. 

“Woman,” he said, taking the cigarette out of him mouth, “you want us to live in the next shootout? Then you better let me clean this gun.” 

You huffed and he put the cigarette back in his mouth, continuing his cleaning. So you did the normal thing that normal people do and ran your nails down his back lightly, feeling goosebumps pop up. You could have sworn he shivered a little too. You scooted up and kissed his neck, moving your nails to his sides and scratching there. 

This time you got a groan out of him, not the “goddamn it I’m trying to work” kind of groan but the “this back scratch you’re giving me here is the best thing that’s ever happened to me” kind of groan. He finally straightened up and let his head roll back, letting the pistol drop, forgotten between his thighs. 

You dropped your hands to the small of his back and dug your thumbs in, rubbing tight circles as best as you could into his muscles. 

“Sorry for not rubbing your back more often, darlin’,” you said gently, “feels like you need at least one a day.” 

“Naw that’s not necessary,” he grumbled, taking another long drag and throwing the butt on the ground, stamping it out. 

“You don’t want a half naked woman on top of you every evening?” 

“If I’m on my stomach, what’s the point?” 

You laughed and slapped playfully at his shoulder, scooting out of bed and hopping down next to the trunk. Arthur brought his gun back up and began putting it back together. 

“Let’s get dressed and get out of here,” you said, rummaging through the trunk for a shirt to throw on.

“Where?” 

“Fishin’?” 

He nodded and snapped the barrel shut, stowing his fresh gun on the table next to him before standing up and sauntering over to you. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist and you stood up, fiddling with an inside-out shirt and smiling. His fingers twirled a strand of hair next to your ear and pushed it aside. You felt warm lips and a scratchy beard against your neck and you tilted your head for more. 

The back of his other hand ran down your shoulder, your arm, slid around your waist again and he held the two of you there, swaying gently. 

“I can’t get my shirt on like this, Arthur,” you hummed after a moment, turning your head to nuzzle into his hand. 

“Maybe I don’t want your shirt to go back on,” he murmured as you turned around in his arms. He linked his hands behind the small of your back and looked down at you. You melted. 

“You want me to go out there with all those degenerates without my top on?” 

He furrowed his brow and grabbed the blanket from behind you and tossed it over your head. 

“This’ll do.” 

You laughed and threw the blanket aside.

“You’re terrible!” 

“You love it.” 

“I do.”


	45. To Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> maybe something where reader goes to hosea about their feelings for arthur and hosea is basically a dad and encourages them to confess

Arthur strode across the camp again and at this point you thought he was doing it on purpose. This time, he approached you directly, hand outstretched. You made a face and picked up the skinned rabbit he had deposited on your table. 

“Arthur this looks like shit,” you said, shoving it to the side. 

“They’re small,” he admitted. 

“Then hit something bigger.” 

“Hasn’t been anything bigger around in a few days.” 

You shook your head and went back to cleaning your station and yet he didn’t move. You looked up at him.

“Need anything else?” 

At this, Arthur looked sheepish and now you were curious. 

“I’ll be ridin’ out today,” he said, looking at his shoes, the mutilated rabbit, anywhere but you, “gonna go help Miss Linton. Old friend of mine.” He added at your look. 

“Okay,” you shrugged, narrowing your eyes at him, “did you need me to…?” 

“No, nothin’,” he said quickly, backing away, “just that I’ll be back before nightfall.”

“Sure, Arthur,” you said, a smile crawling on your face. He could be so strange sometimes. 

You watched him mount his horse and take one look back at you before riding off. 

“Miss Linton, huh?” 

You turned and found yourself facing Hosea, who was leaning on your table and watching Arthur too.

“Who is that, Hosea?” 

“The one that got away,” he said, shooting you a look, “and good riddance if you ask me.” 

Your smile faded quickly and you looked back to where Arthur had disappeared through the trees, but he was gone now. 

At your newly saddened expression, Hosea leaned over and clapped you on the shoulder. 

“Come with me.” 

You put your rag down and scooted around the table to follow Hosea towards the back of camp, near the cliff. 

You hadn’t spoken with Hosea much in the few months you had been with the camp. He tended to keep to himself in his tent, reading and admonishing the various troublemakers around the place. You caught up to him and matched his stride, slow and thoughtful. 

“Mary Linton had an unfortunate grip on old Arthur’s heart at one point,” he started, “and he has since wiped his hands clean of the whole mess.”

“So why is he-”

“Because he still cares, of course,” Hosea said, “because once a grip like that takes hold, it might never heal.” 

You looked down at your ragged shoes and thought. You had never experienced anything like that. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you said finally. The cliff approached and in clear weather like this you thought you could see all the way to Blackwater. 

“Because I see that same hold on you now,” he said, stopping at the edge and gazing out, “and what you do with it is your business but I’ll give you a little advice should you want it.” 

How obvious were you? 

“Of course.”

He turned from the view and faced you. 

“Just tell him,” he smiled, “no fancy speeches, not pomp and circumstance, just tell the man how you feel.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?” 

“I hear New Austin is nice this time of year.”

You laughed. 

“In all seriousness,” he said, “I don’t think you’ll have an issue talking with Arthur should that be the path you choose to take.” 

He touched your shoulder again, this time with more understanding, and left you on the edge. 

***

The hours seemed to drag on and you paced the camp relentlessly. Pearson’s wagon was scrubbed clean, every single dish and article of clothing was scrubbed, books were organized and alphabetized, beds made. 

“What’s got a bug up your ass, partner?” 

You looked up from your tiding and stood face to face with Arthur, you hadn’t even heard him return. 

It was getting dark and you dropped the pillow you were holding, standing to face him and realizing just how tall he was.

“How did it go?” 

“Went fine.” 

“Good.”

He hmm’d. 

The silence was threatening to be awkward until Hosea popped in out of nowhere, startling you both. 

“Trust you didn’t have any trouble on your little adventure, Arthur?” he asked. 

“Course not,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“And Miss Linton?” Hosea asked, “is she well?” 

“Well out of my life now,” Arthur grumbled, “sent her and her brother on a train out of here.” 

“Good,” Hosea nodded, “guess that means you can focus on your pursuits here, now.” 

With an emphasis on the word ‘hear’, he raised his eyebrows at Arthur and walked away. 

Arthur looked back down at you.

“I,”

“Did you-”

You both started at the same time. Hell.

“Arthur I wanted to talk to you when you got back,” you said quickly.

“Here I am.”

You groaned and bounced on your toes. Surely he wouldn’t mind if you just… leaned up and kissed him? 

You screwed your eyes up and grabbed him by the front of his coat, planting your lips on his and taking a huge sigh of relief. This was it, wasn’t it? 

You pulled away and he stood there in the same spot, looking at you strangely. 

“What was that for?” he said. 

“What do you mean what-” you started and noticed the grin on his face. 

“I’m kidding, I know what that was for.” 

And he bent down and took you in his arms, kissing you again. Somewhere, you could swear you heard Hosea chuckle. 

“Damn kids.”


	46. The Final Push to the Sum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous said to arthurs-wife:  
> Hello dear I know you’re requests are closed but please could you do a fic when you have the time where Arthur gives the reader his hat instead of John before he dies and years later she’s still wearing it when she goes with John to kill Micha and Dutch notices the hat on her head and calls her Mrs Morgan when he see her. Thank you 💋

The three of you saw the top of the hill and Arthur stopped. You turned to see him with his hands on his knees, coughing heartily. 

You knew it in your heart and still held out hope. 

“Arthur, come on!” 

You made to run to him but John grabbed your hand, reeling you back. 

“Come on Arthur, let’s go!” John pleaded, pulling you with him, “keep pushing!”

Arthur let out a wracking cough, wiping blood from his lip and fixing you both with a sad gaze. 

“No,” he shook his head tiredly, “no, I think I’ve pushed all I can.” 

“We ain’t got time for this!” John said angrily. Arthur sighed and pulled off his hat, approaching the two of you.

“We ain’t all gonna make it,” he said quietly. He pulled his satchel off and pressed it in John’s hands, “Go, now. It would mean a lot to me if you and this one here got out safely.” 

John nodded but you looked between them. 

“Arthur you have to-”

“I have to make sure you’re safe,” he cut you off, fixing his hat on your head, “now go, go be with your family and be a god damn man! And you,” he rested his hand on your shoulder, “you stay livin’.” 

“Arthur!” John pleaded again but held you back as Arthur climbed up the mountain, “Arthur you’re my brother!” 

“I know,” Arthur said sadly, looking back one last time at the two of you, “I know.” 

John let out a frustrated growl and grabbed your hand.

“We have to go now,” he said thickly.

“We can’t leave him, John!”

“Don’t make him die for nothin’!”

You finally stopped resisting and ran alongside him, away from the cold mountaintop.

***

Arthur,

We came back for you yesterday. I’ve never seen John that torn apart. I stayed with Abigail to help with Jack and I’m supposed to go visit you tomorrow. I don’t know if I can.

***

Arthur,

I’m not the best at this. I left John and Abigail and Jack last week, they should be better off without me. I’ll try my luck in Rhodes. I always thought that was a nice town. 

***

Arthur please come back. I don’t know what to do-

***

Arthur,

John and Uncle came to find me, so many years have passed I almost didn’t recognize him. They want us to build a house out near Blackwater. How about that. 

***

Arthur,

Sadie came by and said she found Micah. I’m going to kill him. I know you were never in the business for revenge but I was never as good as you. I wish you were here to stop me. 

***

These cold fucking mountaintops were to be the death of you. John kicked open the door to an outhouse and was met with nothing. 

“Micah!” he shouted into the wind, “I know you’re out here!” 

A door slammed behind you and you both whipped around to see Micah striding out of the cabin. 

“Hello scarface,” he hissed, “did you miss me?”

“Not much.” 

“Been a few years.”

The three of you circled each other, getting into position. 

“I see that whore of Morgan’s is still around,” Micah sneered, nodding his head at you, “and how is yours?” 

“She’s fine,” John said, calmer than you knew he was, “reckoned I shouldn’t have come to kill you and all that.” 

“Maybe I’ll give her a call when this is all over,” Micah said, “and that boy of yours.”

“We’ll see.” 

In a split second he started shooting and the two of you rushed behind cover, taking potshots when you could. 

“I’ll make you rich, Marston!” you heard him shout over the gunfire, “I got all the money from Blackwater! You wanna be rich?”

“Sounds good!” John called, popping up to take a shot, “come out and give it to me!”

You slunk behind the outhouse and behind Micah and stuck him in the back with the barrel of your gun, Arthur’s gun.

“Come on out, Micah,” you snarled, “it’s done.” 

Micah put his guns in the air slowly. 

“Alright hellfire,” he said, stowing his guns away, “alright, you got me.” 

You shoved him in the back again and into the open where John came out, gun trained between his eyes. 

“Just like old times, huh?” Micah laughed, “a whole manner of folk payin’ social calls.” 

The cabin door slammed again and you all turned to see Dutch emerge from the doorway, dual guns trained on the lot of you.

“Hello son,” he nodded at John, then turned to see you, Arthur’s hat fixed on your head like a grim reminder of his sins. He had the grace to look abashed and nodded at you too. “Miss Morgan.” 

It stung worse than any of Micah’s words, any of the bullets that had landed on you, and now more than ever you wished your cowboy were here with you. 

Perhaps it was the tears in your eyes that made Micah catch you off guard, he wrestled you to the ground and grabbed your gun, wrapping his arm around your throat and pressing the barrel to your temple. 

“Now John,” Micah mocked cruelly, “what were you saying?” 

John looked helpless, flicked his eyes between you and Dutch. 

“What are you doing here, Dutch?” 

“Same as you, I suppose.” 

His tone was tired, a stark contrast to the broken record bullshit Micah spouted.

“Dutch and I are teaming up once more,” Micah said, “we got money, we got dreams. Join us, John.” 

“Let her go,” John said. It didn’t surprise you that he wasn’t catching what Micah was throwing but it still sent a wave of relief through you. 

“Now I can’t do that John,” Micah shook his head. 

“Dutch,” John pleaded with his former father figure, “Dutch come on now!” 

“You shot at me, son,” he said and you barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes, how thick could the man get? 

“You started it!” John spat.

“You betrayed me!” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

The four of you stared at each other in the cold, guns raised, hearts beating faster. 

“Arthur,” John started, “saved my life more than once.”

“Arthur’s been dead a long time!” Micah smirked, “it’s a new century!”

The words cut you to the bone and your eyes rested on his hat in the snow between you and John. It seemed the flow of time was cruel to all things, especially in its haste to erase Arthur Morgan from the memories of everyone around him and only you and John cared to remember. 

“Don’t make me kill you, Marston!” 

“Say something, Dutch!” 

The edge in John’s voice seemed to snap Dutch out of whatever trance he had been in and he fixed the man with a steely gaze before dropping the gun on John and shooting Micah dead in the gut. 

Micah stumbled backwards, pushing you away and giving you time to pick up your hat and gun, which you pointed immediately at Dutch. 

“You shot me,” Micah laughed, “you shot me pretty good…” 

John raised his gun one more time and unloaded all six of his shots in Micah’s chest. He reeled for a moment and looked down at what John had done, then stumbled behind the barn raising his hands as if he were just so disappointed in the actions wrought by everyone here today.

His body hit the ground with an underwhelming finality. 

John looked up at Dutch and heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you,” he stuttered, “Dutch, thank you, I…” 

He trailed off and Dutch just stared, his beard going grey, eyes bloodshot and finally drained of all faith. 

He strode past John and stopped in front of you where you lie on the ground. You had finally put your gun down and looked up at him. You weren’t sure how you felt, and you didn’t think he was sure either. 

His eyes roamed up to your hat and you hoped you saw the edges of his eyes grow the ever bit shinier, but he turned away quickly. 

Dutch disappeared into the gathering snowstorm of the mountain and you never saw him again. 

“Holy shit!” you heard John call, “there’s gotta be at least $40,000 in here!” 

You pushed yourself up off the ground and followed John into the cabin, hoping that one day the pain would wear off long enough for you to be able to celebrate things again. 

At least you still had his hat.


End file.
